In The Sidelines
by Karashi
Summary: A collection of drabbles/one-shots mostly of the Myaxx/Tetrax and/or Darkstar/Charmcaster variety but may also include other minor characters. Like Bits and Bobs, assume no continuity between drabbles unless stated otherwise.
1. Annoyance

**Disclaimers:  
**Ben 10 and its respective characters belong to Man of Action.

**Author's Notes:  
**I totally took Blouper's words to heart about playing around with pairings beyond the Tennysons and Levin. Like "Bits and Bobs" this is going to be a collection of drabbles and one-shots not necessarily interrelated with one another. Unlike "Bits and Bobs" this is going to be a collection of both canon and crack pairings involving aliens and humans but mostly it'll be Myaxx and Tetrax with some hints of Azmuth jealousy 8D. I'm always up for a request so long as it's not yaoi/slash/shounen-ai or pedo-bear/shota-cat approved but I don't guarantee I will accept it n.n

This drabble supposedly takes place maybe a couple of months after the events in my earlier fic "Change of Pace." -bricked for shameless plugging- Gwevin still rocks my socks but the MyTrax could not be denied XD

**Characters Involved:  
**Azmuth, Tetrax, and Gluto

--

**Annoyance**

When you're traversing the galaxy, the distinction between morning and evening become nonexistent. The stars twinkling in the endless void of space become navigational tools as opposed to the timepiece of planet-dwellers. But even without the visual cues of daybreak and dusk, aboard Tetrax Shard's ship, there is another way to keep track of the time.

The Petrosapien keeps himself on a strict schedule of when to sleep and when to rise on his days off aboard his ship. One merely needs to discern Tetrax's whereabouts to learn if it was day or night.

At present, he is in his bed, garbed in little more than simple cotton pants and his blanket. He sleeps silently, deathly still save for the rhythmic rise and fall of his broad chest. Deep as his slumber may be, his warrior's discipline enables him to bolt upright at the slightest disturbance, arms sharpened to dangerous points.

With a tentacle, Gluto nudges his captain's aim away from his gelatinous body, synthesized voice apologizing for waking the mercenary from his sleep. Solid, crystalline daggers gradually retracted back into five fingers as the pilot explained the Petrosapien's presence was required on the bridge.

It does not take long for Tetrax to don his armor and exit his quarters to see what it was that demanded his attention. Displayed on the massive monitor was the Galvan genius Azmuth. The miniscule alien's face, magnified several times over on the screen, was contorted to showcase his ire. There were tight ridges where brows would have been, eyes were tapered into tiny, vertical slits, and the facial growth that many mistook as hair (which was ridiculous as male Galvans had no such thing) twitched every so often.

"And what business do you have with me, Azmuth?" Tetrax asked formally.

"I want to know where you're hiding my assistant." The genius snapped.

Crystalline lids blinked, confusion slowly burrowing into his mind. "I don't know what you're talking about. We escorted her all the way to your location." Tetrax is careful not to mention any details lest someone was listening in on their frequency.

"You escorted someone alright," Azmuth growled, "She's a convincing doppelganger, but that, that female is _not_ my assistant!"

Before the dumbstruck expression could form itself on Tetrax's face, Azmuth moved off screen. The sound of diminutive feet hopping from one surface to another preceded a faint, vaguely familiar melody.

As the volume grew louder, Azmuth reappeared, mouth pressed into a grim line. He barked, "Listen to that and tell me what you hear."

Tetrax turned to his partner questioningly only to receive a bewildered shrug. Clearly neither knew what the eccentric paranoid was on about. It was one of the rare moments Tetrax would allow himself to speak with doubt, "I hear humming?"

"Pre_cisely_!" Azmuth nodded, "And do you know _who_ it was doing the humming? Hmm? Do you, Shard?" Despite its rhetorical nature, the Galvan gave the mercenary no chance to respond to the question, "It's that female you're trying to pass off as Myaxx!"

Blank stares from the captain and his pilot is all the answer Azmuth gets. "You two don't get it do you? Myaxx has been working for me for years and all I've ever heard from her are complaints and curses. This whoever you brought here, she hums, she _sings_. Myaxx is not musically inclined, not unless it's a war song and she has explosions accompanying her in the background!"

"So where is she right now?" The deadpan question does little to betray how utterly amusing (not to mention absurd) Tetrax found the situation.

"She's in her room, reading a cookbook I think. Told her I wanted something special to eat for tomorrow's breakfast. Which is another thing that proves that she-alien is an impostor!" Azmuth declared with much frenzy, "She's willing to make me a meal without promising intentional gastrointestinal harm!"

Gluto resisted the urge to laugh, but barely. To cover up the snickers, the gelatinous alien queried "Did she know you happened to be in the room while she was humming?"

Galvan eyes blinked, "Well, no, I was in my private study reviewing the surveillance footages. But that proves nothing!"

"I think you just managed to catch a glimpse of what Myaxx is like if she's happy about something." Gluto shrugged.

"_Happy_?" the genius gawked, "What is there for her to be happy about?"

Gluto wisely kept himself from sneaking at glance at his captain.

"None of the designs she came up with are up to standard, her calculations have been way off the mark, and her recent attempts at poisoning me with her food have all failed." Azmuth counted off as the tendrils on his face twitched violently.

"Azmuth, cut to the chase." Tetrax narrowed his eyes, arms folding across his chest. "Why did you really call at this hour?"

The Galvan grew silent, large eyes ascertaining he was indeed alone before admitting with much obvious reluctance, "I want to know what you did at that interstellar watering hole that got Myaxx to act..." he struggled to articulate his thoughts as if such a notion could not have ever existed, "With the semblance of being almost pleasant. Mind you, she's still every bit the whiny, obnoxious brat of an assistant prior to her incarceration. And she's been spending more and more time in the training room I built as an afterthought."

Tetrax shook his head in apology, "I'm sorry, Azmuth but the events of that night are a blur at best."

"Would a few million credits clear the fog?" the scientist offered.

"I don't see why I have to tell you, so just keep your money, Azmuth. If you really want to know, I suggest you ask your assistant." The Petrosapien frowned.

"What and give Myaxx the impression I _care_?" Wide eyes narrowed to vertical slits, promptly ignoring the glowering of chiseled features. "No, I'll figure this on my own. How hard would that possibly be?" And with that the monitor blinked into darkness.

Tetrax found his hands balling into fists, not entirely certain why the Galvan's words incited the desire to cause bodily harm to the diminutive alien. He was in no mood to go back to sleep now. Growling, he stalked past Gluto, "I'll be in the training chamber."

The gelatinous pilot waited until his captain was out of earshot before throwing his mechanical arms up and muttering, "Clueless, the whole lot of them."


	2. Blindly Aware

**Characters Involved:  
**Azmuth and Myaxx

--

**Blindly Aware**

Myaxx has never entertained the notion that she was vain. She does not primp or style her tendrils; such things only wasted valuable research time. She does not file or paint her nails, her precision and dexterity would be thrown off by the unfamiliar shape and hue the tips of her fingers would take. She does not fret about having the required physique the intergalactic society has thrust upon her gender, all that matters is that she is able to run, fight and gather data without losing life or limb in the process. She does not spend countless hours in front of a mirror fussing over the deep lines forming under her eyes, she is happy to have her skin still intact after the numerous explosions and life-threatening situations she has survived through.

While she does maintain an acceptable level of grooming and personal hygiene, she makes no apologies should she be found in a disheveled state. She has given everyone the impression that vanity is simply the furthest thing on her mind. For Myaxx, there was no reason for her to look pretty, no desire to catch anyone's eye. There was just no _point._ Period.

The Chimera had no time to concern herself over such superficial matters for she was a scientist. She had said as much whenever her employer, Azmuth, would make an off-handed comment on her femininity in particular her _lack_ thereof. Myaxx's additional responses of snarling, cussing and hurling the nearest object at the Galvan just validated the statement.

At present, Azmuth was completely perplexed upon overhearing (read: eavesdropping on) his assistant's latest complaints. The Galvan could understand if she had been lamenting how he was taking her for granted yet again. However it had lost some of its pizzazz, having been an audience to that rant so often Azmuth could lip-synch along without missing a beat. He wouldn't have been surprised should she have been muttering about wanting some credit and respect, it was her second favorite monologue and slightly less venomous.

He _may_ have blinked whenever Myaxx mentioned plans about murdering him in his sleep, but the Chimera proved she was never the sort who followed through with her threats. Not unless it was made when she could immediately take action. The Galvan had nothing to worry about as he closely monitored the activities in his laboratory. Plus, she wouldn't be able to get past his security measures.

But the female had voice none of these things. The thoughts she recently vocalized had strangely, inexplicably revolved around how she had never realized just how _unattractive_ she must be.

It was curiosity from a completely scientific standpoint (at least that what he told himself) that prompted Amzuth to investigate the abrupt paradigm shift of his assistant. He had pulled up the recordings of her behavior the past few months and noted nothing out of the ordinary, save for how the instances of her humming had increased. And while the idea of a happy Myaxx was unsettling to the Galvan, he could not deny the improvement of her mood was an anomaly in relation to her self-deprecating appraisal. Shouldn't her almost-pleasant attitude be more conducive to pats on the back and reassuring pep-talks?

"This doesn't make sense." Azmuth frowned, for all his brilliance in the field of genetics and technology, his anthropological endeavors always left something to be desired. Case in point: The Omnitrix. What was meant to serve as the ultimate peacemaking device became the most sought after weapon in the universe.

Eventually he stumbled across the footage of Myaxx returning from her most recent day off. Indeed, the Chimera's request for respect had been denied, but Azmuth offered her instead the opportunity to every now and again take a break from her work and more importantly his snide mockery. So long as she followed the mind-numbingly tedious protocols of secrecy that Azmuth had lain out, she was free to go wherever she pleased.

Myaxx had made it a point not to discuss what she does on her own time and Azmuth had never cared enough to ask. But seeing the look of frustration on her face as she stalked through the facility's doors, and this time knowing full well he had nothing to do with it, Azmuth began to reevaluate his level of involvement in his assistant's personal life.

Meanwhile, in the quarters of the Galvan's latest subject of research, Myaxx was completely unaware of her employer's intentions. Had she known, the assistant would have made good her threat of crushing Azmuth with her bare hands. It was bad enough she didn't have his trust or his respect, having no privacy would have been the last straw.

Not to mention it would be extremely uncomfortable and embarrassing for the female should Azmuth learn why she was suddenly so self-conscious. So here she was, pacing about in the (supposed) privacy of her quarters. Trying to rationalize why her attempts at making a certain Petrosapien aware of her interest to go beyond their current platonic companionship have consistently failed.

It wasn't for a lack of trying on her part. Her inexperience in the art of flirting just simply placed her at a clear disadvantage. The fact she was more likely to take a swing at someone to get their attention than she was to flash a "come-hither" smile didn't help matters much either. Acting coy was out of the question, Myaxx wasn't even certain she could bring herself to act so... demure without becoming violently ill in the process. Did such subtlety outside of a mission even work on the crystalline mercenary?

Perhaps she was simply sending out mixed signals. But that seemed unlikely for as far as the Chimera was concerned she had made it clear that she liked him. If there truly was no possibility between them, he would have informed her by now, wouldn't he? Granted the verbalization of her feelings were something along the lines of "I don't hate being around you" Still, Myaxx assumed he would understand what she really meant.

After all, everyone was painfully aware of how unpleasant she could be and of her critical nature. They knew of her tendency to make derisive remarks and unnecessarily pessimistic comments. This meant her effort to be slightly less abrasive and less overly sensitive had not gone unnoticed.

Which begs the question: Why hasn't the mercenary acted on her invitations?

Myaxx would have been more aggressive if not for her excessive self-respect giving her the impression that she was already as forthcoming as was possible. Anything beyond what she had already done would make it seem she wasn't worth pursuing or worse, _desperate_. There was no doubt the Chimera was proud of herself and of what she was capable. Anger always took over, fangs bared, fists at the ready, should her skills or talents be questioned.

At this point, logic seemed to have fled and had no intentions of returning anytime soon so long as the Petrosapien was involved. Frustration simmered at the distinct lack of answers until it reached the point that allowed the irrational in Myaxx to come to the conclusion: She must not be pretty enough.

She had no reason to deny that Pride and Wrath were so familiar they may very well have taken permanent residence in her mind. But until either could explain the cause of Tetrax's lack of action, they would have the displeasure of entertaining the unexpected visitor that was Vanity. The female would never have pegged herself even remotely vain; the concept was as alien to her as asexual reproduction was to a human.

Regardless of how extremely flawed the reasoning, Myaxx was satisfied with this unfounded hypothesis. The important thing was she was now aware of the problem and would be able to formulate the proper course of action to take. And it was this skewed awareness that blinded the female to the possibility that the problem did not lie in her.

--

**Author's Notes:  
**Yes, this is another MyTrax drabble with some obscure hints of one-sided AzMyaxx 8D Myaxx is just really a lot of fun to write. I'm also working on a speculative drabble of the events that results in the Omnitrix falling into Xylene's hands and Myaxx's incarceration. That's just up in the air, however. Also, I'm playing around with a fluffy Joel and Camille thing, but maybe after I watch "My Big Fat Alien Wedding" a couple more times to get a proper feel of these two.


	3. Caterwaul Brawl

**Characters Involved:  
**Myaxx and Tetrax

--

**Caterwaul Brawl**

Tetrax Shard is a seasoned warrior. It is evident in the way he moves: Graceful without compromising caution, agile without lacking strength, confident without falling prey to arrogance. When he enters any establishment, armor donned and visor raised, his presence commands attention, his demeanor demands respect. His stance, steadfast and authoritative, serves as a warning, sometimes a _threat_, that while he is not out for blood he is not someone to be trifled with either.

But infamy gets far more notice and is far more widespread out in the universe. And while the Petrosapian mercenary makes for an impressive figure in person, he maintains a low-key profile fame-wise. He doesn't mind, it means fewer individuals will be looking for him specifically on missions and even fewer will seek him out on the rare, personal outings he allows himself.

Like now for example, seated at the far end of the tavern's counter, a tankard filled with a noxious, bubbling brew in hand. While the rest of the establishment was filled with raucous laughter and rowdy fun, Tetrax was by his lonesome. It was not for a lack of familiar faces nor was he considered unwelcomed. There had been invitations for a round of drinks, requests to have him take a gander at a prospective mission.

He had turned them down with his version of curt politeness, and yet they still kept approaching him. It was only when one particularly headstrong, up-and-coming mercenary planted himself in the empty stool beside Tetrax did the latter wish he had a little more notoriety.

"Shard," the younger alien began, "I have this mission thing coming up and-"

"That seat's taken." Tetrax muttered before roughly shoving the annoyance off the seat. The other mercenary was about to make a retort when a figure suddenly towered behind the Petrosapien. "If you want advice, ask me when I'm on the clock."

"Aww, and here I thought the big tough Tetrax was a softie on rookies." A female voice teased. Though her tone could be considered insulting, it manages to bring a small, but brief smile to crystalline features. The younger alien scurries off, even if it wasn't Vilgax the sight of a Chimera Sui Generis was enough to unnerve most new-comers.

Tetrax glanced over his broad shoulders, narrowing his gaze at the tall, smirking female. Cocking his head, he gestures to the now-unoccupied stool to his left, "You sure took your time."

"I had a last minute discussion about something with someone." Myaxx shrugs, sliding with the ease and grace of someone her stature or size didn't seem capable of. Even if she didn't, the scientist (and secretly the mercenary) wouldn't think twice of making an example of anyone who made a smart remark. She turns her attention to the bar tender to place her order before continuing, "I don't see why Azmuth needed to have it _just_ as I left."

The mercenary instinctively clenches his jaw at the mention of the Galvan. Tetrax is still annoyed over the call the miniscule alien made weeks ago but decides it's best that Myaxx remains unaware. "Maybe he just wanted you to get it over and done with?"

Myaxx snorts, "As if the little runt knows the meaning of the word considerate. He has a surprisingly limited vocabulary for a genius. Sometimes I think it's a prerequisite to know as few words as possible if you have grandiose goals."

Tetrax quirks a curious brow, "Elaborate."

The female stares at him before absently tapping the birthmark just below her lips, "Maybe not _literally_, but figuratively. It's like every megalomaniac or brilliant mad scientist in the universe will have to make a declaration that they "don't know the meaning of the word" when you mention it to them."

"You mean you've never used that line before?" Tetrax frowned, admitting in his own way that he had made such a declaration in one or two missions.

"As if I ever had the chance," she rolled her eyes, "It's either Myaxx do this, Myaxx do that, Myaxx what have you done. Doesn't help that most of the questions Azmuth makes are rhetorical. But let's not talk about the little grump."

"What do you want to talk about?" he asks.

The Chimera nervously scanned the tavern, "I was kind of hoping we could talk about _us_."

And Tetrax stiffens, if such a thing was possible for a Petrosapien, while his mind races together with his pulse. Somehow he manages to calmly reply, "I don't know what you're talking about, Myaxx."

_Wrong answer._ Why does he _always_ give her the wrong answer? Why is _that_ his knee-jerk response to anything involving Myaxx? Tetrax supposes it's because of his occupation and how tight lips and discretion have saved his hide on more than one occasion. Granted that was the case when it came to information but with unquantifiable things such as emotion? Tetrax normally couldn't care less if the entire universe was aware of his distaste or displeasure.

Strange how it was always different whenever Myaxx was involved.

The aforementioned female, on the other hand, didn't seem to share the sentiments. When she was feeling something, those around her were well aware of it. It just so happens that whenever Tetrax was involved, she made it a point not to show what she was really feeling. Unfortunately she wasn't very good at it because right now, the chimera was radiating so much disappointment and frustration it was near tangible. She sighs, "I see."

Tetrax is a seasoned warrior. He prefers to communicate through actions, not words. They continue their conversation in silence with shy glimpses, confused furrowing of brows, apologetic canting of heads. He is far more comfortable telling her he's sorry this way. It's so much easier than trying to string together words that the female would find acceptable.

He doesn't realize Myaxx is not as adept as he is in discerning the intentions behind the motions. Her skills of observation are proficient enough that she can make out vague notions, wisps of ideas but nothing distinct. Nothing _concrete_ that she can use to build a hypothesis or a theory. Irritated that she's accomplishing nothing with this little pantomime, she huffs and turns away.

And to Tetrax, this action it is tantamount to having a door slammed in his face. It is not something he takes lightly, not when he just risked making himself vulnerable albeit in a non-verbal and nonconventional manner. He glowers and looks to the opposite direction of the female, nursing his drink that no longer bubbled but fizzed pathetically, an apt mirror of what he was feeling at the moment.

Where was Gluto when you needed him? The gelatinous pilot would have an explanation handy. He could smooth things out between the Petrosapien and the Chimera in a manner the parties involve couldn't.

Seconds later, Tetrax hears the bottom of a glass scrape against the metal of the counter followed by Myaxx calling out to the multi-eyed, multi-tentacled bartender, "Hey Choga, I didn't order this."

"Is it not to your liking?" The voice is clearly male, a solid baritone perhaps half an octave deeper than Tetrax's. From the corner of his eye, the Petrosapien spies another Chimera Sui Generis yanking a drinking patron off the stool to directly to Myaxx's left. Meaty, celadon-skinned hands clenching into a tight fist silences any potential outraged protest.

"It's a little too sweet for my taste." Myaxx explained, pushing the drink away. From where he is, Tetrax cannot see the female's expression, but he hears in her voice that she is not intimidated by this show of force. The mercenary is more than glad that she does not sound impressed.

Easing himself onto the emptied chair, the interloper continues "My apologies then, I simply figured a sweet little thing like you would have a sweet tooth to match."

It is a good thing that Tetrax has complete control of himself. Else he would have spat out the mouthful he had just taken from his tankard. He knows the female to be many things and he has a selection of choice words to describe her. The words sweet and little do not fall under either category.

Myaxx doesn't show the same amount of restraint. She laughs, openly, _mockingly_ at the assumption that was a supposed compliment. "You _must_ be talking about someone else."

"I'm sure deep down you're as sweet as they come." His tone changes, softer, huskier.

"I don't think you can dig deep enough to get to it." Myaxx counters, sneaking a glance at Tetrax as if to tell him this challenge was also extended to him. He meets her gaze, if only through his peripheral vision before settling on the Chimera beside the female.

"My ship's docked nearby. I find it's one of the best places to do some digging." His tendrils quiver in a manner most females of their species find enticing.

Tetrax grimaces at how the other male doesn't realize two things. One: Myaxx is not like most females of their species and two: "The lady is with me."

The words come out as a low growl, territorial, almost possessive. Almost. Tetrax still cannot shake off the knee-jerk, roundabout reaction. He does not turn his attention away from his half-empty tankard, despite hearing the groan of metal as the male Chimera swivels in his seat.

"Care to repeat that, runt?"

It is then the mercenary notices how tall the other male is, how even seated the interloper makes Myaxx look petite by comparison. Then again, Chimera Sui Generis' have always been gifted with height, strength and a terrible temper. Tetrax grunts sourly as he takes another swig of his drink, _I can take him._

There was no doubt he could.

The unspoken question was _would_ he?

"Certainly." Tetrax nods, rising to his feet to stand beside Myaxx, "The. Lady. Is. With. Me."

Myaxx frowns at the crystalline alien, elbow leaning on the counter while she rests her cheek against the back of her hand. Never mind that he was right in his assumptions, it doesn't change the fact she's annoyed at the Petrosapien. Of course he'd be willing to talk about their standing _now_ when a perceived threat has appeared. "Am I?"

The other male misunderstands her question to be encouragement. He leans towards her, tendrils brushing uncomfortably close against her skin.

_Strike one. _

With a smirk, the stranger places his hand, unbidden, on Myaxx's shoulder. Two pairs of eyes narrow dangerously at the touch.

_Strike two._

"He's right you know," Myaxx snarls. Strong, female fingers clamp down on the male Chimera's wrist before twisting the offending appendage off her person with minimal effort. She follows up by slamming her heel heavily against his shin. Which just goes to show she really _isn't_ the sweet little thing the stranger made her out to be.

"You little-!" The interloper shrieks, pulling his hand back as it balls into a fist.

_Strike three._

Sharp, crystalline projectiles shoot out, cutting through carmine armor, embedding themselves against celadon skin while the rest decorate the walls of the establishment. The male Chimera falls back but is instantly on his feet, charging for the Petrosapien whose crystalline arms sharpened to dangerous points.

The other patrons practically jump out of their seats, half-encircling the two would-be combatants. But before the two opponents could collide, a bolt of energy explodes between them. Immediately the crowd disperses back to their tables, distancing themselves far, far away from any other possible energy discharge.

"Shard! Zyndax!" The bartender Choga barks, each limb brandishing a firearm, the muzzle of the smallest gun was smoking. "Am I needing of the reminding of the no-fighting-in-mine-bar rule to the both of you?"

Myaxx snickers, arms folded across her chest in amusement. She never got out of her seat, "You may need to spell things out for Tetrax."

"Tetrax Shard?" Zyndax blinks, "Wait you mean the very same one that helped bring down Vilgax? _That_ Tetrax Shard?"

"Does mine words making of the stutter?" Choga cocked her weapons, targets still trained on both males.

The Chimera blanches, hands held before him in surrender. He laughs nervously, "I er, I didn't know who you were and that she was your girl."

"Join the club." Myaxx muttered beneath her breath. Despite the sour frown on her lips, she sounds pleased at the latter statement.

"Please as to be stopping of this." Choga orders, directing this request to Tetrax in particular. "I is liking mine place as to being not broken."

Tetrax ignores the bartender and the weapons, arms still shaped like daggers. He glowers at Zyndax, "Apologize."

"Of-of course!" He stammers, "S-sorry about bothering you and-"

"Not to me," Tetrax snaps, "To the lady."

He spies the look of surprise on Myaxx's face, notes the way her features change into curiosity over the intentions behind the gesture.

She makes a lazy wave of dismissal at the apology Zyndax offered, she seemed far more preoccupied with keeping her gaze fixed on Tetrax. Even after the mercenary grunted for Zyndax to leave, once again taking his seat beside her she is still carefully studying him.

And normally Tetrax has no problem with wordless scrutiny. But again, things just seemed different whenever Myaxx was involved. "What?"

She grins and shakes her head, "Nothing."

Tetrax blinks, "Fine."

Myaxx purses her lips and huffs in disappointment, "You're not supposed to give up this easily."

"Fine," he half-groans, "What is it?"

"I told you it's nothing."

"If it _is_ nothing why do I need to keep asking about it?"

"Because."

"Will two of you please as to be settling whether this is being nothing or not, yes?" The bartender suddenly appears in front of the pair, half a set of eyes staring at Myaxx, the others at Tetrax.

Myaxx just shrugged, before laying down payment for her order. "Ball's not in my court." And with that she exits the tavern, casually waving goodbye to Tetrax.

"I just can't make heads or tails of what she means." Tetrax grimaces, downing whatever remained of his beverage.

"Please as to not be taking of wrongly this advice, but mine self be thinking two of you is just needing to be deciding of your coupleness, yes?"

And this time Tetrax does spit out his drink.

All over the bartender. Much to the multi-eyed alien's dismay.

"WHAT!?" the mercenary roars, unmindful of the stares his echoing outburst garners. "Whatever gave you _that_ idea?!"

"Having the many of eyes is not just being for trouble watching out, Shard." Choga clucks her tongue while wiping herself dry, "Also, the almost fighting of you and Zyndax? It be very clear a sign of feelings for tall, sometimes-rude female."

Tetrax doesn't know if he should be embarrassed or offended. Was he really that transparent when it came to Myaxx? He sighs, resting his forehead against his palm, "Let me get this straight, just because I came to the defense of a good friend, _everyone_ thinks we're... we're..."

"An item of no official-ness?" the bartender supplied while bussing the counter, "Yes, you are being of correct." She gives Tetrax no chance to respond, "Please as to not be denying mine self's observations, you would be being very poor of form. These eyes are seeing of aaaaall" she prolongs the word, wiggling her tentacles in an attempt of appearing mystical but falling just short of silly.

"I believe you're looking too much into things." Tetrax grumbled, again wishing Gluto was around to help buffer the attention towards a less... compromising subject.

"I am just not being understanding of your reasoning for fear." Choga shakes her head, "I is not thinking Myaxx be wanting the throwing of yourself at her. All the most likely she is just be wanting the admitting of your feelings in way that is most direct."

He hangs his head in resignation, helpless to veer away from this particular train of thought "How can you be so sure?"

Again, the clucking of tongue, "I has already been the telling: I seeing of aaaaall" again the wriggling of limbs, "Plus, globby friend Gluto has making the confirmation of mine self's theories."

"WHAT!?" Again, the resonating roar, again the stares.

She winces, "Shard, please as to not be attempting to bringing about mine's deafness."

From the other end of the bar, a newly arrived customer called out, "Hey, Choga! How about some service here?"

"Yes, yes! I is the shortly of coming there. Shard, you is just be needing of knowing that Myaxx is sometimes wanting of the taking since she is mostly of the giving." She chirps, affectionately patting Tetrax's shoulder. Before she left, Choga made one final suggestion: "Please as to be going after her."

And Tetrax almost, _almost_, wishes that Gluto was around to explain the reason behind this bit of advice. Still, he follows her instructions and after paying for the drink heads out to look for the Chimera.

Passing through the doors, he spots to his right: The tall, distinct figure that was Myaxx, leaning against the tavern's wall, arms folded across her chest.

"You sure took your time," she mimics him from their earlier conversation. Her tone is impatient but it is more of the teasing sort.

He counters, grinning in a manner that only Myaxx would find endearing as opposed to awkward. "I had a last minute discussion about something with someone."

"Elaborate." She quirks an interested brow.

He cants his head in absent thought, "It was about us."

--

**Author's Notes:**  
It is official. Blouper's take on Tetrax will always be a notch above mine. He is just a hard character (no pun intended unless you find it funny XD) to write for but I suppose I'll get the hang of him sooner or later (hoping for sooner). Also, Choga's grammar **BROKE MY BRAIN!** ;A; But she was a necessary character since I needed a casual observer's perspective without using Gluto. Because, well, the pilot can only take so much of Tetrax's denial and inability to come to terms with his feelings. Poor, poor Gluto deserves a break : So I _may_ end up writing a little Gluto-Gwen drabble but seeing as it conflicts with the Gwevin it will be more of a friendship thing with some slight jealousy on Kevin's part XD But really, unless Gluto can take on a humanoid form, pairing him with any human reads/feels too much like uh, bestiality to me D8 And _that_ (much like crack!yaoi . pedophilia and incest) is a subject I will never _ever_ be comfortable writing. Plus pairings that conflict with my OTPs generally put me off writing ;A;


	4. Who Won?

**Characters Involved:**  
Darkstar and Charmcaster

------------

Gray features pulled tight in silent frustration within the shadows of an oversized hoodie as, for the nth time, dull-blue eyes glanced at the digital timepiece hanging above the electronics store across him.

Fifteen minutes past the designated time.

He knew he shouldn't be surprised or bothered by her tardiness -she did this on purpose to keep him on his toes and to ensure that in the event their mutual, ill-favored acquaintances learned of their rendezvous they would not be caught together- but today was different.

Normally, he didn't mind waiting in the crowded walkways of the mall. It was the perfect place to catch a quick bite, an easy excuse to brush against some unsuspecting prey and briefly draw energy. Similar to the holiday rush, people had more buzz to them. Except the people with an excess of energy came in pairs.

They came through the door with their fingers laced with their partner's, arms linked at the crook of their elbows or acting as the other's waist or shoulder. He didn't need or want the reminder that once upon a time he had been more than a mere spectator. Granted all those times he took part, he had been playing a role, a character. The bronzed skin and the perfectly coifed hair were nothing more than a costume he donned.

It was an act, a brief exercise in order to work up an appetite. Those girls all wanted to be swept off their feet by some fairy tale prince -albeit one who came with his own glitter-effect- on the most romantic day of the year. He had been more than happy to oblige.

He allowed a wry smile to play across chapped lips as he wondered what those girls would think if they saw him the way he was now. Would they recognize him? If they did would they run screaming in disgust? Or would they be like _her_?

Again he checked the clock and refused to let himself become worried now that it's been thirty minutes since the appointed hour. He seriously contemplated leaving. After all it was _she_ who had insisted they participate in the overly commercialized event involving hearts and chocolates and flowers.

*******

He had told her curtly, and not in his usual affectionately-threatening manner, "Michael Morningstar celebrated Valentines day."

Her wrist was in his hand before she realized it, teeth sinking into her skin but he made no motion to siphon her mana. Amethyst eyes stared up at his grim expression, she would have seen by the clenched teeth between chapped lips how her "innocent" suggestion struck a nerve. One he didn't think was sensitive.

At least not this much.

She didn't attempt to pull free. She didn't need to as he released her just as quickly. Her skin was marked, just a little reminder for the platinum-haired woman that he was Darkstar. It was nothing her glamour couldn't hide until it faded away on its own.

Neither made an apology, neither expected one anyway; it wasn't in their nature. How could one fault the other for being true to him or herself?

Painted lips smiled coyly, "I bet Michael did everything according to the handbook of cliche'd V-day: Roses, chocolates, candlelight dinners, long walks on the beach..." she ticked them off on her slender fingers with her perfectly manicured nails.

"River."

"What?"

"I lived too far from the beach, I took them on walks along the river." He corrected.

"I should probably put a check mark on the box beside afternoon picnics, fine wine, and hiring a violinist to play while you ate, huh?" She teased.

He stared at her, coldly, "Don't expect a repeat performance."

She looked offended, "Please, I don't give a damn about that mushy, lovey-dovey crap."

"Oh?" He blinked with a cant of his head, "There weren't any young men brave and foolish enough to attempt to charm Charmcaster?"

The bridge of her nose crinkled in a look of distaste, "They were all very dull idiots who used their fancy gifts as a crutch. Valentines was just an excuse for them to flaunt their wealth, really they were begging to have their wallets bled dry."

"Then why are you so keen that we waste our time?"

"Because I'm certain Darkstar's way of celebrating Valentines day would easily trump anything Michael Morningstar can come up with. Unless, of course, you both rely on cheap gimmicks. Do you need me to show you how to really tear it up on V-day?"

He never could resist her challenges when she had that infuriatingly smug smirk on her lips.

*******

He had been waiting for over an hour and his patience had run out. Well, this was a new low, even for her. After all the trouble he went through she decides not to show up?

Darkstar wasn't going to stand for it!

As he was about to leave he felt it. The sharp crackle of energy barely two feet behind him, the sensation of space and time being forced to comply to one's will, they meant she was finally here.

Charmcaster's face peeked from the store's window. She didn't look the least bit apologetic as she motioned for him to enter. He glared at her from underneath the hoodie, even if she couldn't see it. She didn't have to, his defiant stance was enough to indicate his anger.

She giggled, which would have made him angrier had he not been so accustomed to her. The playful grin never left her face even when she walked through the door and grabbed him by the arm. He almost swore the grin grew wider when she started to pull him into the store.

They both ignored the bewildered store-keeper as they headed to the stockroom. It was only when said store-keeper threatened to call for security was he acknowledged by twin beams -one obsidian, one fuchsia- straight to the chest.

"I'd say I was sorry for being so late but since I was working on your Valentines day surprise I deserve some slack." Charmcaster cocked her head smugly at him as she pulled the hood back to reveal his face.

Darkstar stared grimly at her. The reasoning wasn't nearly enough to mollify him, "Didn't you even consider how being late would have messed up my plans?"

"No."

He knew she only said that to rile him up. It worked. "I didn't want to do this in the first place! The least you could have done was inform me ahead of time!"

"And ruin the surprise?" She batted her lashes at him, comically rather than seductively. Her hand rested on the stockroom door's knob, "Hope you're hungry because it wasn't easy preparing a full course meal _this_ mana-heavy."

She whispered an incantation (more out of habit than necessity) and the stockroom door no longer led to the stockroom but a long, dark corridor. Each side was lined with eight prison cells and each cell housed a bound, sentient, mana-rich alien. Even though he couldn't tell by looking, somehow he knew they were all female. The mouths on his palms were practically salivating just by being within their general vicinity.

"One for each year Darkstar missed out on snacking." Charmcaster grinned before pulling the door close. "Your turn."

Wordlessly, he retrieved an odd-shaped key from his pocket and held it against the keyhole. The instant it touched the metal, a pale light began to peer through the gap between the door and the doorway. He turned the knob and opened the door to reveal a vault where sixteen, small, velvet boxes rested on a long table. Within each box was a small device of alien origin crafted to look like an ordinary charm for a charm-bracelet. Each trinket enhanced a specific physiological attribute of the bearer, be it concentration, endurance, even mana-amplification, depending on the shape it represented.

As Darkstar pulled out a small keypad the size of a cellular phone he adds "I've also secured appropriate targets for you to test them out on."

"Really? Where?" She quirked a very interested brow.

With that, he keyed in a specific sequence and the automated locks on all the mall entrances activated and effectively trapped everyone inside. With such malice in his smile that it sent delicious chills down Charmcaster's spine, he answered "Out there."

The door closed while faintly glowing blue eyes stared into amethyst eyes.

She began, "It's obvious who's the winner and who's the loser."

He continued, "We won, of course."

They finished, "And they lost."

------------

**Author's Notes:**  
This is for Chibi Hime who not only convinced me of the CharmStar pairing but made me fall in love with it. This was written during February, so pardon the Valentines Day theme to it XD


	5. Jailbreak

**Characters Involved:**  
Darkstar and Charmcaster

-----------

Darkstar couldn't decide whether being captured by some no-name, no-rank Plumber was a good thing, an insult or just plain embarrassing. On the one hand, this particular Plumber wasn't aware of how dangerous the half-human mana-leech was and therefore didn't know Darkstar should be locked in the Null Void. On the other hand, it was some no-name, no-rank Plumber! At least the "hero squad" back on Earth had no idea of his capture.

This Plumber-ran Prison was certainly better than the Null Void. No unknown alien beasts trying to sneak up on him to eat him. No not-quite-retired Plumber or Plumbers-in-Training to avoid. No scavenging for a half-decent meal. No scrounging around for a make-shift shelter. No being sealed off from the rest of reality. Yes, this was infinitely better than the Null Void.

But that didn't mean Darkstar was going to quietly rot in jail for the rest of his existence. Oh no, that wasn't how he worked. He'd get out, that much was certain. He just didn't think his escape from this facility would be so similar to his escape from the Null Void, save for minor differences.

Someone from the outside sought him out. Only instead of the trio that made him what he was, it was a woman and a much older man. He found this out when the door to his cell was ripped off from its hinges by some intangible force.

The older man went ahead while yelling some mystical gobbledygook and left the woman to determine whether the gaunt, mana-starved young man should be liberated or left behind. Even while she stood at the doorway, Darkstar could tell she was brimming with mana. The supple glow of her creamy skin, the luxurious sheen of her platinum hair. And it was her energy signature that lingered around the crumbled heap of metal that had been the door. It was all Darkstar could do to keep the mouths of his hands from lunging at her to feed.

_Not yet._ He growled to himself.

Darkstar feigned lethargy when he slowly raised his head to meet the woman's amethyst gaze. A slumped posture accompanied with sluggish movements, his body language made him look feeble. But there was a distinct intensity in the way he held her gaze. He saw that she saw by the knowing, almost approving, smirk of her lips.

"Well, your eyes don't look as dead as the _rest_ of you, I'll give you that." She noted with an arrogant chuckle and his exposed features certainly made him look anything but lively. She clapped her hands as if she were calling a pet, and commanded in the most condescending of tones "Come on. Show me why the hero-trio's oh-so-keen on throwing you into the Null Void."

The mention of the Tennysons coupled with that hell-hole was usually more than enough to anger Darkstar. But the way the woman spoke to him with that cocky, smug smirk on her face just set him off. He was on his feet with arms outstretched and had the woman bathed in obsidian light before she even knew what was happening.

At first, the young man believed the incredible surge of mana was a result of his hunger, that he was taking in more than he normally did because he had been starved all these months. But when his hands (and subsequently the rest of him) regained their once-healthy glow, he knew he found the perfect mana-source. That is, until he felt her pulling her energy back. The action was reminiscent of what Gwen had done, it triggered his instinct for self-preservation and immediately broke contact.

He faltered backwards as his features reverted to their unappealing state. But he noticed his hunger was sated. He hadn't felt this full in months.

"So that's why," the woman declared while she leaned against the doorframe for support, "You'll definitely come in handy with what I have planned."

Darkstar squared his shoulders and neatly folded his arms behind his back. Despite the sunken eyes, the hollow cheeks, and the taut grey skin, Darkstar held himself in a rather regal manner. With slow, purposeful steps, he closed the distance between them. He stopped just short of two feet, and sounded gracious when he asked, "I'm sorry, lovely lady, but what makes you think I won't take this opportunity to leave right now?"

"Go right ahead," She shrugged. Her voice was faint and she looked like she was about to topple any second. But there was something in the way she grinned, so self-assured, like the cat that ate the canary. "But I doubt you'd be able to find another willing food-source that can actually satisfy you. And besides," she straightened herself to show that she had more energy than she was letting on, "Comparing scores when we get our revenge on a certain goodie-goodie Gwen Tennyson would be so much easier if we didn't have to track each other down."

An onyx bolt was shot at her and missed the woman by a hair's breadth. Her lips pull into a malicious grin when she glanced over her shoulder to sneer at the fallen guard. She fixed her gaze back at Darkstar while she offered her hand, "I take it you're coming with us?"

He eyed the proffered appendage and chapped lips widened to mirror her grin.

"It would be wise for you not to trust someone like me."

Grey clasped Cream.

"It would be wise for you not to bite off more than you can chew."

-----------

**Author's Notes:**  
I like writing my interpretation of "how the pairing came to be" when it comes to my crack!ships. That was why I wrote Change of Pace in the first place XD


	6. Prompted

**Characters Involved:**  
Myaxx and Tetrax

**Author's Notes:**  
Normally I post AN's at the bottom but this particular "chapter" is a collection of short drabbles/one-shots based on prompts from the drabbleday community in Livejournal. I figured I might as well just combine them into one entry.

-----------

**Prompt: **Justify  
**Title: **He Really Does

It didn't take a genius to see that Myaxx was upset.

The twisted snarl that was her lips, the blatant lack of eye-contact, the near inaudible mutterings of profanity, and the way her seat was swiveled in order to turn her back to Tetrax were clear enough indications.

Of _course_ Tetrax noticed the visual cues and the not-so-subtle changes in her body language and position. He wouldn't be much of a mercenary otherwise. Whether he understood the reason behind them was a different story.

Most likely he did but he insisted on playing dumb and chose to maintaining an air of obliviousness that only served to aggravate the female's already-foul temperament.

He knew she wanted an apology from him.

She always did. Even if there was nothing to apologize _for_.

This time though, Tetrax did owe her an apology, if not two.

"I'm sorry," he stated as he snuck a glance at her from the corner of his eye.

"What are you sorry about?" she snapped, their arguments had become such a habit she doubted the sincerity of his words.

Broad shoulders rose and fell in a reluctant sigh, "I know I may have-" he paused in search of an appropriate word, "_Implied_ that your project failed not because of shoddy equipment, like you said, but because of your own skill. Or lack thereof."

Tetrax didn't wince at the murderous glare Myaxx shot him. He'd grown far too accustomed to them that they lost their edge. So, he continued, "I was wrong to suggest it and for that I apologize."

Her expression softened. Slightly.

It was obvious she was still irked.

And now he could justify what he did: namely retrieved a small cube from his pocket. He offered it to her and told an almost well-crafted lie "I picked this up on one of my past missions. Thought you might have a better use for it than I would."

If Chimera Sui Generis had brows, Myaxx would have quirked hers. Her suspicion over the verity of his statement was made evident by narrowing of her eyes and the pause before she accepted the cube.

Inside was a set of tools.

Not just _any_ set of tools but _the_ set of tools Myaxx had been trying to get her hands on for months to no avail.

Tetrax sheepishly turned away to hide the faint tinge of crimson that bloomed across his face. Unlike Myaxx, he didn't need verbalized appreciation of any sort. The stunned expression, the gradual tapering of her eyes, and the upward curve of her lips was all the thanks Tetrax needed.

Trying to hide the bashful grin that embossed itself onto her lips, Myaxx muttered pleasantly "You didn't have to go through all that trouble, Shard."

And Myaxx didn't realize, as she inspected the instruments with a child-like glee, that he did. That the mercenary had intentionally picked a fight with her and that his line of work, coupled with his underdeveloped social skills, required him to justify giving her a gift.

-----------

**Prompt: **Holiday  
**Title: **Deal

She'd been writing down who-knows-what for the past half hour now.

"Myaxx." It was the gruff voice of the mercenary that pulled the scientist out of her computation-filled thoughts.

She blinked to glance up and away from the napkins she had been scribbling computations and trajectories on. Her lips pursed in annoyance, "What now?"

"Stop working." Tetrax glowered. His broad, armor-clad shoulders leaned heavily against the café chair's backrest.

Myaxx snorted, "Having a flash of insight is _hardly_ what I would call working."

She resumed jotting down notes until she ran out of space. Her fingers reached for another sheet, only to find Tetrax stubbornly holding on the other end.

She snarls and pulls harder. "Shard, let go."

"No." Tetrax didn't budge. Neither did the napkin as he pressed even more weight onto the delicately thin sheet.

He was stronger than her, a fact she tended to forget given her height and specie.

They squared off while they steely glared into the other's eyes. Shoulders went rigid, knees poised to spring.

The tension mounted and made those in the immediate vicinity distinctly uncomfortable. Chair legs scraping against concrete echoed in rapid succession as the observers scooted themselves far, far away from the impending brawl.

And then Myaxx did the unexpected: She let go.

Tetrax mirrors the look of surprise on everyone's mind.

"Fine, fine," the female sighed before she tucked the half-legible notes into a satchel. "I'll stop working. But the moment you go off to chase after a wanted criminal like you did in our _last_ outing, I'm going back to Azmuth's lab."

Crystalline features nodded, "Understood."

-----------

**Prompt: **Cook  
**Title: **Pride and Safety

It was a matter of safety on Tetrax's part that only the gelatinous navigator knew of his self-imposed isolation. Especially when one considered how he was on the losing end of this bout with the intergalactic equivalent of the Earth-flu.

He didn't need any attempt on his life when he was in no condition to fend for himself.

He needed sympathy even less.

But it didn't surprise him when the intercom in his quarters buzzed to rouse him from a fitful sleep. Weakly, he reached for the button, the series of squelching sounds that was his pilot's apology blared out in between fizzling static.

"I'm really sorry, captain," Gluto began. The petrosapien could practically see the pilot wringing his tentacles helplessly. "I tried to stop her but she wouldn't take no for an answer."

Tetrax bit back a groan. He supposed it was only a matter of time before-

"Shard!" A female voice penetrated the thick alloy of the mercenary's doors.

His first concern was how many more beings were aware of his current condition. His second was that he and the chimera were getting far too comfortable with each other to prompt the blatant disregard for quarantine. The rest of his thoughts eluded him as Myaxx entered his room with several bags in hand.

Crystalline brows knitted together; chartreuse eyes narrowed in dismay.

"Get out, Myaxx." He declared as authoritatively as possible. But his throat was sore, voice so raw that what came out was a croak as opposed to the intended growl.

If he hadn't been so ill, he would have seen the way Myaxx's carmine eyes tapered into concerned slits or noticed the droop of her shoulders.

She ignored his command, as she was wont to do, and strode to his bedside. The bags were lowered onto an end table while a chair was silently lifted and positioned nearby.

"I just had to see this for myself." She snickered, mockery laced with the barest hint of affection. The contents of her cases were revealed: an impressive set of surgical and medical instruments already sterilized and sanitized.

She picked up a scalpel and Tetrax swore he saw her resist the urge to grin when he began to inch away from her.

"Relax," she chuckled, chipping but a minute particle from the tips of his fingers. "You won't feel a thing."

And indeed he didn't, having diamond-hard skin has its benefits.

"I'm _fine_." He muttered sourly, chin jutting out in the petrosapien's version of a pout.

"Oh really? Why the quarantine?"

"Why are you here?" he demanded, sitting up only to succumb to a fit of dry heaves.

It mortified Tetrax, the feeling Myaxx of giving his broad back a few sharp slaps to help dislodge the phlegm in his lungs.

"I got sent here on Azmuth's behalf." She explained, and unlike him, Myaxx is far more adapt at crafting (and telling) lies without relying on selective disinformation. "Gluto clued me in on how you were, ah, indisposed. I figured since you don't have a decent medic I could get in some practice working on something organic." She gives his arm a series of taps, "In a manner of speaking."

He snarled, the sound reverberated in his chest like a war-drum, "Don't treat me like I'm some sort of specimen!"

"Easy there, Shard." She placed a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder, while the other props a pillow behind him. "You wouldn't want to aggravate your condition. You're rather brittle in some parts."

She frowned, tapping the mark on her chin and Tetrax identifies this gesture as indicative of her genuine worry. And this placated him. Slightly.

"I know that. It's _my_ body."

"Mhm." She nodded and turned back to her bags to hide the closest semblance to a school-girl's blush painting itself across her features. She rummaged through her things before presenting a covered bowl to Tetrax. "Here."

Beads of cold sweat suddenly formed on his forehead at the sight. "W-what's that?"

"An old remedy my grandmother used to make me when I'm under the weather."

Tetrax's heart raced, "Please tell me your grandmother made it."

"Trust me. You wouldn't want _her_ making it since she's dead and all. Come on, it won't kill you."

She paused, a look of uncertainty flitting across her face. "At least I don't _think_ it has anything lethal to petrosapiens."

The mercenary watched as she pried the bowl open. A pungent, acidic smell assaulted his senses. While he suppressed the desire to retch, he continued to observe as Myaxx took a spoon and poured a few dollops of the concoction over the samples she had taken from him.

It was almost anticlimactic, the way it didn't so much as fizzle upon contact.

"See? No harm done." Myaxx beamed.

"I'll eat it later," He lied.

"Like I trust you to eat my cooking on your own," She rolled her eyes, holding both bowl and spoon towards the mercenary. "Come on, open wide."

"I can feed myself," Tetrax assured her, trying to push away the utensil headed for his mouth but failing.

Miserably.

Weak as he was, Tetrax knew it was only a matter of pride that made him resent Myaxx's fussing over him and coddling him like a child. But it was a matter of safety that made him keep silent that the soup was a tad too salty for his liking.


	7. Synonymous

**Characters Involved:**  
Myaxx and Tetrax

-----------

The cadence of heavy footfalls echoed against steel walls as combat droids encircled their quarry. Laser fire buffeted the approaching droids, the beams doing little more than ricocheting off their bodies. The air thrummed as the machines powered up their weapons in retaliation. Targeting systems locked on the individual clad in black armor.

Triggers were pulled half a second too late.

Sharpened points punctured chassis, sliced cables and ripped out circuitry in a series of strong, precise stabs. Droids and automatons were felled left and right, energy crackling from their exposed mechanical innards.

After a series of beeps, panels along the walls slid open to reveal more of their number.

They barely stepped out of concealment before their hulls were liberally peppered with razor-sharp fragments. There were those that hung back, letting the first wave take the brunt of the assault while they waited in safety. And safe they were, until stalagmites shot up from the ground and impaled them. Power cores were pierced, sparking an overload that triggered a chain of explosions.

When the smoke cleared, only the figure clad in black armor remained standing. Chiseled features grimaced behind the helm at the signs of fatigue. Broad shoulders rose and fell as heavy breathing took longer than normal to steady.

There came a faint hiss from behind, the sound of a door sliding open, and an impatient sigh of "Aren't you _done_ yet, Tetrax?"

The petrosapien didn't need to turn around to know who his uninvited guest was.

"No, Myaxx, and I suggest you get out of here before you get in my way."

His words held no malice but picking a fight was usually the fastest way to get the chimera to leave. Tetrax wasn't in the mood for company. Hers least of all. His head tilted upward as he barked an order for the combat simulator to "Activate Training Regimen: Rylon Terra Fhinn."

The combat simulator hummed its compliance. Wall-mounted lasers built up their energy. Giant, circular saws buzzed to life along the floor. Electric-charged spikes emerged from the corners of the room.

When the lights dimmed to an ominous red, "Hazard Code: Pyron Xynth Omega."

The response to Myaxx's command was instantaneous. The wall-mounted lasers powered down.

Tetrax shot the she-alien a glare from behind his helm before he growled "Re-initialize Rylon Terra Fhinn."

The giant saws ignored the petrosapien as they sheathed themselves back under the floor.

"Computer, I said re-initialize Rylon Terra Fhinn."

The spikes lost their spark and sunk back into the corners of the room. The lights flickered back to white and dozens of tiny, maintenance crab-droids scuttled out to begin cleaning the facility.

Blocky hands curled into a tight fist, boot-heels groaned against the floor as Tetrax spun to face the chimera. His helm retracted to reveal the outraged fury etched across his crystalline features.

"What did you do!?" He roared.

"I used an override code I recently had Gluto install," Myaxx stated.

"Deactivate it!"

"Sure, but it won't do you any good. Once used it makes the combat simulator unusable for twenty four terran-hours," she explained. One of her hands fell on her holstered sonic-blaster when fists sharpened into dangerous points.

"You don't get to decide what goes on in _my_ ship! You don't get to tell Gluto to install anything without _my_ knowledge or _my_ say so!" Tetrax hollered, his voice echoing in the room as he continued with his tirade.

"It ever occur to you Gluto could have easily said no to installing the override code?" Myaxx quietly asked.

That caught him off guard.

"Blob usually drives a hard bargain whenever I make a request unless it has your well-being in mind," The chimera continued, her hand still resting on the weapon. "Granted, you've got a ridiculously high amount of endurance and stamina but it's been what? Four? Five terran-days that you've been in the combat simulator non-stop?"

"You can't exactly build up stamina if you don't push yourself. And you're hardly fit to judge whether or not I should stop or keep go-"

Suddenly Tetrax found himself flat on his back when he was unable to avoid the sweeping kick Myaxx made. The initial look of shock gave way to an ugly scowl as he attempted to get to his feet. Dagger-tips reverted back to blocky hands when the barrel of a sonic-blaster was aimed point-blank at his face.

"You're irritable. You're argumentative. Your reflexes are a mess."

"You realize you just described yourself."

"Your ability for witty-banter took a nosedive," The she-alien rolled her eyes, "And I got the better of you in a fight. How do these facts not mean you don't need your rest?"

Seconds passed before, with an audibly heavy sigh, the petrosapien conceded to the chimera's points. She returned her weapon to its holster and helped him up. Whether it was out of pride, resentment, or something else, Tetrax refused Myaxx's offer to lean on her for support.

They walked slowly, side-by-side as they headed for Tetrax's quarters.

"I suppose you think I owe you my thanks," he grumbled.

He blinked when she answered "No."

He glared when she continued "But I do think you need a better way of dealing with your problems than just training yourself to death."

"Unless you count my crew's attempts at undermining me, all my problems are work-related," he growled defensively.

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that?" A smirk tugged at her mouth, briefly, then a frown took over. "What happened?"

"_Nothing_ happened," he glowered, squaring his shoulders as if to prove more to himself than to her that what he said wasn't a lie. Because it _was_ a lie.

_Tetrax had been on a supply-run. On his way to the apothecary to stock up on salves and energy tablets, he ran into an old acquaintance of his. He wasn't on hostile enough terms to draw his weapon but he wasn't friendly enough to ask how things have been going. Small talk and idle chatter were never high on the petrosapien's list of necessities._

_It seemed that the other alien was offended by Tetrax's lack of social graces, he felt he was owed civil politeness at the very least. With a toothy grin he remarked at the retreating figure of the petrosapien, "It really warms my four hearts, Tetrax. I know_ I _wouldn't be able to work with someone the same specie as Vilgax. Seeing as how he nearly wiped out all petrosapiens. It's so_ wonderful _to know how_ forgiving _you are."_

_Tetrax stiffened, if such a thing was possible, at the other alien's words. It took a considerable amount of effort to keep himself from mauling the offending individual. He was out in public and he really didn't need to get blacklisted for starting a fight._

_So he bit back the anger to finish his supply run, telling himself he could just vent in the combat simulator until he felt better._

_Four and a half days later he was no longer furious. Just miserable and frustrated and guilty. _

_Especially guilty._

_Guilty that it took a genocide to make him take responsibility for his own actions. Guilty that he didn't even try to defend his crew member from such a ludicrous insult. Guilty that, for even a nanosecond, he agreed with the other alien._

_How could he tell Myaxx about all of this? _

_The answer was simple: He can't. _

_And because he can't he won't._

"Again: Do you honestly expect me to believe that?" Myaxx said with a snarl in her throat.

"I'm captain of this ship. Unless this is your way of challenging my authority?" Tetrax grimaced, hoping that this wasn't what the chimera had in mind. He didn't want to have to fight her seriously.

"Would it kill you to realize that being a captain is not synonymous to being a damn martyr?" She sighed in irritation when she felt the beginnings of a migraine stirring behind her eyes.

He reached for one of her hands and just held it. His grip was firm and bordered on painfully tight; he eased a bit when he saw her wince but still gave her no quarter to pull away.

Not that she was going to but he wouldn't be able to tell.

"I appreciate the concern, both Gluto's and yours, but I value the lives of my crew more than mine."

"Oh for-you're starting to take on a messianic complex, Shard. And I must say it's not very becoming of you," the chimera frowned, wishing she could smack some sense into the petrosapien's head. "You're not some savior of the galaxy. You're not even the bearer of the Omnitrix! You think you can handle everything on your own?"

He let go of her hand to fold his arms across his chest. His features were twisted into an offended glare, "Are you suggesting I'm weak?"

She mimics the gesture but not the expression. Her features were twisted into an annoyed sneer, "That must be it. I can't _possibly_ be just offering my help to the great, almighty Tetrax Shard."

"I don't need your help," he growled.

"Like hell you don't," she snorted. "You were the one who asked me to come along. No, wait, don't tell me. Azmuth paid you an incredible sum so he could be rid of me."

Tetrax stared at her, jaw slightly slack, completely bewildered how she could think that or where the idea even came from. It was easy to notice his confusion and Myaxx figured, "It's pointless trying to argue with someone who's both sleep and nutrition deprived. We'll continue this argument when you've gotten something to eat and slept for a few terran-days."

"I'd say it's pointless trying to argue with _you_, Myaxx."

"Your ability for witty-banter still hasn't recovered," she smirked.

-----------

**Author's Notes:**  
It's not the usual "fluff" tone I write with when it's a Myaxx and Tetrax fic but I'm the first to admit that this pair isn't really a very "fluffy" couple. Visually or emotionally. But I like the dynamics of the relationship. Even if it's all in my head XD


	8. Smooth

**Characters Involved:**  
Charmcaster and Darkstar

"If you _**know**_ you sexy, that _**make**_ you sexy, and _**if**_ you sexy, you _**know**_ you sexy."  
- Joe's Playa Rules

-----------

Charmcaster wasn't all that surprised when her request was refused. She would have been rather disappointed if it wasn't. That would have been no challenge and where was the fun in that?

"I'm not your trained monkey," Darkstar growled.

"No, you're my pet zombie," She laughed, gingerly side-stepping the obsidian beam that narrowly missed her. The ever-present, ever-arrogant smirk on her lips widened when she saw his fists clench. She did so love teasing him. "Come on, it's not like you have anything _better_ to do."

"Because _you_ clearly have nothing better to do," Darkstar folded his arms across his chest as his dull-blue eyes glared at her. "Some of us actually prefer being productive over wasting time."

"Since when was getting to know the person you're conspiring with a waste of time?" She purred, arms tucked behind her as she leaned forward suggestively.

He didn't bother to hide his suspicion, "You don't honestly expect me to believe that, do you?"

Charmcaster pulled back, a pout and a wounded look on her face, "Why Darkstar, all I wanted was a simple demonstration of how you hunted when you were still Michael."

"What purpose would that serve?" He spat angrily, "I'm in no condition to- to-"

"So you're telling me you relied solely on your looks to get a meal?" She sounded unimpressed. "And here I thought you actually had some skill. Guess all you had going was your pretty face."

Her disappointment had no impact on Darkstar. He didn't even seemed fazed as he walked past her and out the door. Which was just as well because the cantrip she had set up would have gone to waste. She broke into a grin when she heard a wet, strangled snarl of outrage.

"Why am I back here?" He demanded.

"Because I _clearly_ have nothing better to do," Charmcaster chuckled, taking slow, deliberate steps towards Darkstar. "Just a quick demonstration. I promise not to bother you for the rest of the day."

"Pardon me if I don't trust you to keep your word," he didn't mean his apology. His hands were at his sides, out of precaution perhaps, once Charmcaster was within arms' length.

And that was fine with her because "You don't really have a choice here, Darkstar. Now be a good pet zombie and show me the golden-boy charm that swept wretched Gwen Tennyson off her feet."

The young man's shoulders rose and fell with a heavy sigh, "Is this what it's really about?"

She blinked, "Excuse me?"

"Oh Charmcaster, are you actually jealous that I had gone on a date with the Lovely Gwen?"

Seconds passed with amethyst eyes staring incredulously into dull-blue eyes. There was a twitch of lips then peals of laughter echoed in the room.

"Did you really just say that with a straight face?" Charmcaster asked in between guffaws. She held a hand up, the gesture requested for a moment to catch her breath. Except she suddenly reached out for the clasps that secured Darkstar's helmet together.

He jerked back, as if burned, his fists were clenched and radiating with a dark aura.

"Take the mask off," She ordered with a savage glee, her eyes aglow with mana.

"I wouldn't recommend it."

"It's not like I haven't seen worse."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"No, not really," she responded with a nonchalant shrug. "But the longer you don't do what I want, the more bored I'll get. And the more bored I get the more ideas I'll have. And the more ideas I'll have, the more I'll-"

"I get it, I get it," He conceded and grudgingly did as she asked.

With his helmet removed, Charmcaster was hard-pressed to imagine Darkstar surrounded by adoring girls. She had heard of his exploits but the thing about second, third, and fifth-hand information was details got lost. Or worse, exaggerated.

She watched him turn away, heard the odd, whistling sound he made whenever he breathed deeply through his nose, and waited.

When Darkstar faced her again, he looked different. Charmcaster couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly, but his features weren't as grim and his aura wasn't as menacing. He could almost, _almost_, pass himself off as pleasant.

"Hey there, sorry to bother you but-"

"I'm just here for the show," she cut him off.

His expression turned ugly -_uglier_ at her dismissal, "I don't know what you think I do but it's not a monologue."

"Aww, you mean you're not going to play both parts? I was hoping to hear your falsetto."

Mana laced around her arm as it arced skyward, the motion slicing in half the obsidian beam the young man shot at her.

"The rumors don't do you justice," Darkstar declared, amused and impressed.

"Rumors? What rumo-_oh_," Charmcaster realized.

She had expected him to lay it on thick, to go over the top with the purple prose and flowery compliments. She was fully prepared to shoot down all his pick-up lines and heckle him just for the sake of heckling. Never mind the performance was done under protest and only because she had him trapped in her cantrip.

Charmcaster played neither nice nor fair but when she was bored she played along.

Her hands crackled with mana, illuminating the wicked grin on her face, "Didn't these rumors mention that attacking me is a very stupid move?"

His hands hummed with dark energy, casting shadows over the mouths in his palms, "They did but I figured you wouldn't give me the time of day if I went with the conventional approach."

"Oh Darkles, I already know _your_ hunting style," she chided, hurling an immobilizing spell at him. "It's Michael's I haven't seen."

Twin beams countered the spell, dispersing the mana back into the aether. "Tall order since Michael doesn't deal with girls like you."

That stung.

Slightly.

"But he had no problem dealing with Gwen Tennyson."

"Naturally. But you're _nothing_ like the Lovely Gwen."

That stung.

A lot.

The air between them thrummed with energy and wavered in heat-haze. Eyes aglow Charmcaster glowered, "I'm not, am I?"

"No," Darkstar shook his head, grim features uncharacteristically soft. "You're not like the other girls Michael hunts. You're not a vapid socialite who's only interested in being someone's arm-candy. You're not some gullible teen nor a self-righteous, self-proclaimed hero-wannabee. You don't act under any pretense of niceness. You're honest in your dishonesty. You know you're not a nice person and you make no apology for it."

His eyes, though intense and focused on her, lacked their usual sharp malice. She doesn't think he had ever looked at her that way. He studied her neither as a hunter nor a lech. He looked at her appreciatively, gratefully, as if there was nothing else in the world worth looking at but her.

"How could Michael possibly _hope_ to have a chance with you?"

He smiled at her then; warm and tender. And the heat-haze dissipated.

There was no trace of mockery in his voice, no signs of hidden motives. His posture was so open and his words so sincere that Darkstar's ghoulish appearance does nothing to keep Charmcaster's heart from skipping a beat.

She almost, _almost_, forgot this was all just an act. She sneered, "That's some backhanded compliment."

He laughed.

She doesn't remember ever hearing him laugh that way; _with_ her instead of _at_ her. His voice was rich and luxurious, an aural velvet that sent delicious shivers down her spine.

"Michael wouldn't have been able to phrase it any better," he shook his head and offered an apologetic smile.

Though she kept a cool, calm exterior, Charmcaster felt her stomach twist into knots. Tight, uncomfortable knots with butterflies wedged in every nook and cranny. Wordlessly he approached her. His boots made no sound with each slow, even step towards her.

As he drew nearer, it dawned on her.

She couldn't read him like this.

She couldn't anticipate his next move like this.

And, most importantly, she didn't like him like this.

_Time to turn the tables,_ she decided.

She closed the gap between them and smirked at the stunned expression on his face when she wound her arms around his neck. She laughed when his cheeks turned an odd shade of gray when she completely pressed herself against him.

"Your face turns purple when you blush, did you know that?" She teased, visibly enjoying Darkstar's discomfort.

"I never made it a point to know," He surreptitiously attempted to pry her off, his features once again grim and displeased.

She flashed a dazzling smile and clung even tighter.

She decidedly liked him better this way. Awkward and angry and scheming and -why was he mirroring her smile?

Darkness encroached the corners of her sight and she realized, a split-second too late, that he was feeding on her.

His voice was thick with concern when he asked "Are you alright?"

"You know damn well I'm not," she weakly hissed through grit teeth.

"I don't understand why you're so upset," he chuckled. He smiled a ghoulish, saccharine smile that flirted between smug and mocking, "You were the one who wanted a demonstration of how Michael hunted. Feeding comes with the package."

"Bastard."

"You don't get points for stating the obvious."

-----------

**Author's Notes:  
**For Chibi Hime's project "13 Days of Darkstar." I know the piece is silly and LOLWUT and if you laughed at the thought of Darkstar being all "suave" and "Mr. Smooth" then my work here is done. Bonus points if you ended up hearing Rob Thomas and Santana's "Smooth" playing in the background when Darkstar turned to face Charmcaster again.


	9. Mistaken

**Characters Involved:**  
Myaxx and Tetrax

----------------------------

It was sheer bedlam. There was no other way to describe it. There was wild kicking, furious biting, harsh elbowing, fists were flying, limbs were flailing and anything one could grab ended up as a projectile soaring through the air.

A Klingon and a Ferengi were double-teaming a Storm Trooper. Miniature stargates were being wielded like chakrams against an overweight Wonder Woman. An unusually tall Yoda was pummeling Scott Summers who had a serious case of five o'clock shadow. And there were humans. Lots and lots of humans engaged in combat with another human. Or a Vulcan. Or whatever human-dressed-as-an-alien they could get their hands on.

At the very heart of the brawl was a tall, female chimera sui generis accompanied by an armored petrosapien. They didn't seem to be having a difficult time nor did they seem to be enjoying themselves. If anything, they looked annoyed.

When Myaxx and Tetrax arrived, red flags rose at the sight of numerous humans milling about the garishly decorated venue. The pair had been highly suspicious of the whole operation from the beginning: The fact there were more humans than aliens, the questionable merchandises on display, and the utter lack of security. And no, muscular Earthlings wearing black t-shirts with the word "**Security**" printed in bold yellow does not decent protection make.

But Tetrax tended to be particularly stubborn in Myaxx's presence. Her snide comments on his faulty intelligence gathering didn't help matters much. "Are you certain you have the right coordinates to the Intergalactic Tradeshow, Shard?"

"Yes, I am." He glowered from behind his helm.

Her arms folded in front of her chest, head canting in disbelief. "Really now."

"If it will get to you shut up I'll have Gluto re-confirm the coordinates."

Myaxx shrugged and turned to take in their surroundings, only to have her sights lock on a human teenager. The teen's hair was in an unnatural shade of purple, blonde hair peeking ever so slightly from the roots.

"Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh. You and your friend's costumes are just. **AWESOME**!" he gushed, reaching out to grab Myaxx's arm.

Crimson eyes narrowed as she quickly pulls away before the juvenile could touch her. "Back off, human."

Brown eyes practically popped out of their socket as he gawked, "You're a girl in there? Whoa, are you like wearing stilts or something? Or are you really this freakin' tall?"

Tetrax is glad for the helm; it hid the look of pure amusement on his face at the chimera's discomfort. "She's really that tall."

"Your parents must be like super tall or super short to get such extremes!" His enthusiasm was starting to draw the attention of other humans. Continuing, he set his focus on Tetrax, "What's your suit made of? I've never seen this kind of fabric before. It'd be perfect for when I cosplay my level forty seven bounty hunter slash thief slash technomage."

Myaxx and Tetrax had no idea what this human was babbling about. But whatever jargon the youth was yammering on about was the least of their concern. A crowd had started to gather with flashes of light going off all around them.

"Hey mind if you pose with me and my buds? It'd make for a wicked post for my blog entry." A blue-skinned cybernetically-enhanced creature asked as he gestured to the four individuals in hazmat suits standing behind him.

"Me first!" The teen from before took out his cellular phone with the intent to pull both Tetrax and Myaxx down to fit in the miniscule screen of his camera.

Tetrax sidestepped out of the way, "I'd rather not."

Myaxx felt the human's fingers brush against her skin. She snarled, "Touch me again and someone is going to get hurt. And I promise you it's not going to be me."

"Oh. Em. Gee. The two of you don't break character do you?" one of the few females in the crowd squealed in delight, "That's so **awesome** because you know it's a total omgwtfbbq moment if you have someone who's really badass suddenly get all giggly and stuff. Out of character much?"

"Pfft, that's not awesome. The armor the guy's wearing is totally wrong. The helm should be more stream-lined and where are the rivets on the sleeves? He's supposed to have rivets on the sleeves," Her companion sniffed in disdain.

It was Tetrax's turn to glare, "I'll have you know rivets would be extremely impractical as it would entail unnecessary maintenance."

"Pfft, unnecessary maintenance my ass, you're just cutting corners. What you think real fans of the show won't notice? It's the little details that make or break a costume."

Myaxx stared pointedly at Tetrax as if asking _Now will you admit you got the wrong coordinates?_

"Ridiculous," the mercenary grunted both to the chimera and the heckler as he started to leave. He gestured to Myaxx, "Come on. Let's go."

The tall alien nodded and followed after him, only to feel fingers grasp around her wrist. She turned and found it was the very same human teenager who had touched her from earlier.

"Pleeeeeease just one shot? It won't take long."

"I thought I made myself clear," Myaxx glowered, reaching for the blaster secured to her leg. Before she could pull the weapon free Tetrax stopped her.

"Don't."

"You wouldn't make me a liar now, would you?" she sneered at the mercenary.

"I said _don't,_" he warned.

Grudgingly, Myaxx didn't go for her blaster. Instead she easily wrenched herself free from the human's grip and picked him up by the scruff of his shirt. Before anyone could say anything else, she hurled him (extra hard), straight into a booth of rare collectibles. Delicate figurines toppled and smashed into pieces, models never before removed from their pristine packaging had the corners of boxes wrinkled, effectively diminishing their worth.

An indignant scream-fest between stall owner and the teenager ensued, which led to a grabbing of a nearby folded chair and promptly bashing the stall owner's head in. Things quickly degenerated from there.

"None of this would have happened if you had just let me blast him." Myaxx snorted as she ducked to avoid getting beaned by a paperweight in the shape of the planet Saturn.

"We're dealing with Earthlings. They can't exactly withstand laser-fire at point blank," Tetrax growled, barely flinching from the light saber that smashed down onto his head. The object in question simply snapped in half and elicited a glare from the petrosapien, sending the cloth-swathed owner scurrying.

"I'd have set it to stun." The chimera grumbled while backhanding two of the security team members.

The petrosapien would have pinched the bridge of his nose if he had one, "No, you wouldn't."

"You know me so well," She grinned before frowning, "It's rather disturbing."

Tetrax didn't object as he cleared a path amongst the sea of bodies by letting the humans learn of his diamond-tough body the hard way. Myaxx would have resorted to more violent means of getting out of the brawl, like grabbing a particularly light human and wielding him or her as a club but Tetrax wouldn't let her.

She had to settle for sticking close to Tetrax while clothes-lining anyone within arm's reach to discourage humans from thinking they could take the pair on.

The communication link in Tetrax's helm buzzed and the mercenary switched it on. "I assume you have the right coordinates _this_ time?"

"Yes, it's actually not too far from where you are. Just a few buildings away," The gelatinous pilot explained, "I've sent you the exact details. Is there anything else you need?"

He relayed the message to the chimera when they finally managed to exit the venue.

"Yeah, I want a bath after this. These humans have no concept of hygiene."

----------------------------

**Author's Notes:**  
This was actually an old gift-fic for a friend over on LJ. The request the friend made is "Myaxx and Tetrax accidentally go to a Sci-fi convention." Still, I enjoyed writing this even if it wasn't anything fluffy or romantic or even made the slightest sense. The crack is sometimes just hella fun to write XD


	10. Shnitzel

**Characters Involved:**  
Charmcaster and Darkstar

* * *

Run. Snarl. Run. Jump to the left.

"Keep running!" Voice orders in the back of his mind.

_SMASH GOES A FIST._

Run. Grimace. Run. Dive to the right.

"What's with the snail's pace?" Voice mocks in his ear.

_SLAM GOES ANOTHER FIST._

Run. Growl. Run. Tuck into a roll.

"Watch it!" Voice rings in his head.

_SNAP-SNAP-SNAP GO THE TREES._

Cuss. Cuss. Cuss some more. Stumble backwards out of sight.

"LOOK OUT!" Voice shrieks everywhere.

_CRRRRRRUNCH._

Black light. Grow, grow, grow so dark.

Purple light. Glow, glow, glow so bright.

Voice chants. Voice demands. Voice screams.

_BOOM GOES A STONE GUARDIAN._

Cough. Unclasp. Gasp. Shake off dust.

"You idiot," Voice whispers in his heart.

""""""""""

Darkstar limped slowly to the ziggurat, one gauntlet-encased hand gripped at any available surface for support while the other cradled his helmet against him. Aside from the brief winces that flit across taut skin and tugged at sunken eyes, he showed no expression, gave no indication of just how badly hurt he was.

His breath came in short gasps, muffled by the sound of metal scraping metal. He glanced to his helmet where his fingers clawed at it in an attempt to focus on something else. Anything else but the pain that was shooting through him thanks to a broken leg and several bruised ribs.

Anger fueled him to make it this far, forced him to push forward until he was at the steps of the temple, and it was anger that helped him up its first step. But anger could only last so much; could only prop him up for so long.

He took that one step.

And crumpled into an exhausted, pain-racked heap of mana-starved grim-features and injuries. But he made no sound, he hardly had the strength to breathe, let alone cry out. Besides, he wasn't about to give anyone the satisfaction of knowing the damage he took.

Where his anger ended his pride began.

Stubbornly and silently he laid there, cold stone pressed against cold cheeks while blood oozed out the tight mesh of his clothes and onto the ground. He wished to the overseer-with-that-unpronounceable-name that this whole thing would be over soon.

Perhaps the overseer took pity on him and granted him his wish.

"Sleeping on the job, Darkles dear?"

With incredible effort he raised his head to glare at the platinum-haired woman that emerged from the ziggurat's entrance.

"Awww, I'm sorry they roughed you up. I really thought you could have handled them on your own but that's what I get for over-estimating you."

Her smirk infuriated him but he had spent all his anger-fueled strength on the trek to get to the temple that all he could do was bare his teeth at her and snarl.

Charmcaster tapped her cheek and coyly smiled at him before she held out a hideously carved totem that housed in its maw a rainbow-gem the size of his fist. The mana-witch whispered something beneath her breath and the next thing Darkstar knew he only saw purple.

It washed over him, swept him up, lifted him mid-air and cocooned him in warmth. His helmet fell with a dull thump against the ground but he didn't notice. The pain intensified to white-hot pins and needles. He hissed in resistance. But all he could see was purple light. All he could hear was her voice.

Glowing. Chanting.

He groaned and he reached out for her to stop. But all he could see was purple light. All he could hear was her voice.

Glowing. Chanting.

He was burning up from the inside. Fire licked at his palms, seared his throat, and he was screaming now. He was sure of it. But all he could see was purple light. All he could hear was her voice.

Glowing. Singing.

Was that a lullaby? No, it couldn't be. She was singing something from a ritual; she had to be. She brought him here to act as a distraction while she got what she wanted. And he knew she would just use him, like he would have used her had the tables been turned.

His mistake was being careless enough he actually gave her the chance to use him and sacrifice him. Because this was why every single part of him was twisting and snapping and collapsing onto itself in sheer agony. Why fire, ice, and lightning burned and froze and sparked and broke throughout him.

Why all he could see was purple light. Why all he could hear was her voice.

And then he couldn't see anything anymore. He couldn't hear her voice anymore.

He thought the ritual had ended and that he had died. All so that she could become more powerful. Ironic that it was power that first united them. Well, desire for power, for revenge, and maybe, foolishly, he thought for each other.

"Still sleeping on the job, Sparkles?"

Darkstar felt the corner of his lips tug into a frown. Charmcaster _never_ called him that. Blue eyes shot open when he realized his lips weren't chapped and his cheeks were no longer hollow or his skin gray. His fingers were combing through his hair, his _full head of hair_.

He was Michael Morningstar again.

Stunned, he just stared at the mana-witch who stood smugly in front of him. She pointed to the ground at her feet, "This is the part where you fall to you knees and _beg_ me to let you-"

She never finished her sentence because he scooped her into his arms and the teeth in his palms sank into her skin.

"Thank you," he whispered. "But you promised to let me feed off you after you get that totem. And now that you have it, I just want my end of the bargain."

"Of all the ungrateful-" the rest of her words dissolve into a euphoric moan.

It was Michael's turn to smirk, "I guess you never heard about the other reason the girls kept coming back to me."

She wasn't listening to him and instead sighed dreamily.

He stiffened at the sound and gently lowered her to the ground. Though the teeth in his hands gnashed angrily at the sudden interruption, he ignored them. He stepped away, arms folded behind his back, posture ramrod straight.

"Why'd you stop?" Charmcaster asked, dazed and genuinely confused.

He just shrugged, "I lost my appetite."

He didn't want Charmcaster to be like the other girls because she wasn't like the other girls. Though he would never admit it he liked when they argued and fought and snarled and were all but at each other's throats. While Charmcaster's willpower and stubbornness matched (perhaps even exceeded) that of Gwen Tennyson's, he would rather not risk losing that over something as trivial as a snack.

He met her questioning gaze head-on, glad that for once he was without his helm. He hoped to that overseer-with-the-unpronounceable-name that she was too disoriented to read between the lines.

The overseer, apparently, only granted one request a day.

"Are you getting soft on me, Sparkles?" She sneered, "Because if you are, I can reverse the whole process. It'll be a snap."

She snapped her fingers.

Immediately the color drained from his face, his cheeks faded to gray and pulled taut over bone. His hair fell out in large clumps, and his hunger became more insistent. The process itself wasn't unpleasant but the end result was another matter.

Because once more, he was Darkstar.

He seethed, "Why would you-"

"I can fix you again," Charmcaster held the totem before her, "But only if and when I feel like it."

"You think you can blackmail me?"

"Oh Darkles," she laughed, "I don't have to blackmail someone I already own."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**  
A belated birthday gift for Chibi Hime. She recently showed me a screencap of Darkstar being attacked by a large, tiki-like rock-monster and my first thought was "Charmcaster is trying to get some magical artifact to power herself up for a rematch against Gwen and she needs bait/a distraction!" Er, no, that's a lie. My first thought was "What's with all the belts, Darkstar?" but the Charmcaster one was a close second.

And since I'm much more comfortable with the idea of writing a DarkCaster fic involving a giant, attack rock-monster than I am contemplating why Darkstar has all those belts that serve absolutely no purpose other than to give vague hints he might be a closet sub, this fic came to be. As for the title, well, if you've never seen the cartoon "Chowder" I suggest you take a look at the wikipedia entry. Particularly the character section describing who and what Shnitzel is.


	11. Crack: Enhanced and Theory

**Characters Involved:**  
Myaxx, Tetrax, Gluto, and Azmuth

**Author's Notes:**  
The "crack" series is set in an AU where an accident during an experiment turns Myaxx and Tetrax human. The actual accident never got written outside my head because the MyTrax muse decided for me that it would rather I write the aftermath. These are the first two "aftermath" drabbles/fics. The rest will be uploaded sporadically in between other drabbles/fics I've been writing/working on on DA/LJ.

* * *

**Enhanced**

"GET BACK HERE!!!" A female voice rings throughout the compound.

_Can't get a moment's peace_, Gluto mutters sourly before he slides the door to his quarters open. Immediately, he sees the galvan genius speed past, miniscule limbs carrying a remote of sorts.

"Catch me if you can!" Azmuth cackles, eyes tapered into gleeful slants.

The gelatinous pilot shakes his head, prepares to shut the door when a human female suddenly appears in the hallway. He freezes in place as he takes in the pale complexion of her skin. The mole on her chin draws attention to the enraged snarl of her lips, the sheets wrapped around her body like a makeshift robe.

His three eyes widen when he spies the shock of venom-green hair and he hears her yell in a voice that should not belong to her.

"FIX THIS! YOU MISERABLE LITTLE GNAT!"

"Myaxx?" His tentacles go rigid in shock and utter disbelief.

The female doesn't acknowledge him, sharp features trained on the speeding galvan. She simply zooms down the metallic hallway, muttering oaths and threats at the paranoid recluse. Maybe it was just an experiment that wanted its creator to correct the mistakes it feels entitled to being corrected.

Instead of continuing her pursuit, the human pauses to lean against the wall, completely out of breath. She glances over her shoulder as if just now realizing Gluto's presence.

She groans in between deep gulps of air, "Why do humans have to have such short legs and such a limited amount of stamina?"

He blinks, "I wouldn't know I'm-"

"It was a rhetorical question, Gluto," She snaps, fist pounding against the wall only to yelp in pain and nurse her hand. "Damn it, why'd they have to be so fragile too?"

How does she know his name? The navigator is curious, _concerned_, but curious. He loses the opportunity to ask when her crimson eyes widen, realization dawning on her. She speeds off, hair and sheets trailing behind her.

The pilot follows suit, keeps a safe distance but just enough that she is never out of his sight. He wonders how she knows her way around the facility and his instincts tell him he should approach with caution.

Finally they arrive at the firing range.

No, Gluto _mistakes_ it for the firing range given the numerous charred holes and fragments of what had been furniture in its early state of existence. A small section of the room is relatively untouched though all the lights seem to be broken. But Gluto can make out a worktable or two and resting against one is another human.

The silhouette is male with a stocky, barrel-chested build. He seems to be the human female's purpose for returning here. Was this where they had been created?

"How you holding up, Shard?" she asks, reaching out to place a comforting hand on him but then stopping herself.

_Shard?_ Again Gluto blinks. _Did she just say Shard?_

The pilot hears the man sigh, hears him speak in a voice that should not belong to him, "I've almost adjusted to the amplified sensitivity of my skin."

"Good, because I'm going to need all the help I can get in catching Azmuth," The woman folds her arm across her chest awkwardly, as if she didn't know whether to rest her limbs on or under her breasts.

She goes with the former.

"Can someone please explain what's going on here?" Gluto has an idea but his morbid curiosity would rather hear it straight from their mouths.

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" The woman sneers, chin jutting out as she cants her head.

The pair steps out of the unlit wreckage, and Gluto notes how the top of the woman's head ends just at the man's eye level. Three eyes observe the male's short-cropped cerulean hair, the square jaw and chiseled features. Most importantly he sees the armor the human is wearing and its uncanny resemblance to the one Tetrax wears.

"Myaxx, we don't have time," The man chides her, slowly getting to his feet. He is tall for most humans; the height seems appropriate possibly necessary given his broad frame and sculpted muscles.

Gluto blinks. Several times before he does the unthinkable.

He _laughs_.

Myaxx's cheeks burn in fury, "You think this is funny?!"

"Yes, yes I do," Gluto admits. He knows he shouldn't but he does.

"Gluto, enough," Tetrax growls, his face an ugly scowl.

And the pilot quickly silences himself. There was something about human features that make their emotions so much more visible, more _enhanced_.

"Sorry," He apologizes.

"He'd better help us," Myaxx huffs and pouts, cheeks puffing in a childish display of temper. She sneaks a glance at Tetrax, "Because I don't like being shorter than you."

Tetrax cants his head at her before hastily looking away to hide the blush that dusts across his face. "I don't really mind the change in height."

And the pilot bites back another laugh. Human features definitely make emotions so much more enhanced.

* * *

**Theory**

Myaxx has had to piece together clothing out of random bed sheets as her usual garments no longer fit her. She is no seamstress but stitching cloth is a lot easier than combining DNA strands.

Theoretically speaking.

The addition of an extra finger and the amount she had shrunk affected her depth perception and spatial understanding. Myaxx had never bled so much in her entire life than she did in her attempt at sewing by hand. Several bandages and uninterrupted strings of profanity later, the chimera is successful in wrangling a makeshift dress with a most Frankensteinian design.

She ignores the loose seam of the hem and the stray strands dangling from the collar and sleeves. So long as her sensitive human parts (in particular the parts she _didn't use to have_) are concealed she doesn't care how she looks like. Footwear is a different story, but she's in neither the mood nor condition to even attempt anything.

What she wanted right now, apart from wringing her employer's tiny little neck into knots, was to check on Tetrax.

Partly out of guilt (because if she hadn't gotten the mercenary involved he wouldn't be in this mess) but mostly out of a curious mischief. She knows the Petrosapien's limited sense of touch and she wonders just how vulnerable he is now to tactile sensations.

A grin spreads across her face.

*****************

The blanket is too warm, the bed is too soft, and _everything_ feels more than what he's come to believe is supposed to. But Tetrax's warrior discipline allows him to conceal his discomfort behind a blank look. Instead he focuses on adjusting to these changes, conditioning himself to expect this soft, thin membrane stretched over his body to magnify his sensitivity.

Not all the changes were negative. He felt lighter, more agile, even if his endurance and ability to withstand damage had literally plummeted. He can learn to work with what he's given, but he hopes he won't have to for too long. He was the last of his kind (as far as he knew) and it's disconcerting to the mercenary that he no longer resembles his old self.

He has hair for crying out loud. _Hair_. What good will that do him?

Sitting up, he runs his far-too-thin fingers (even if they're meaty by human standards) through cerulean locks and winces when they tangle. The blanket is pulled off to the side, revealing bare chest and dark, cotton pants. Long, muscular legs swing off the bed, naked feet gingerly stepping onto the cold floor.

And suddenly he tenses. The soles of his feet had detected a vibration that was growing stronger, indicating someone was heading for his room.

He cannot discern who it is just yet, but he will learn if necessary.

"Tetrax?"

Even if he identifies the voice as Myaxx's the mercenary does not relax. Until the door slides open and she enters into his room. Saffron eyes widen briefly before they are squeezed shut when he bursts out laughing at the ridiculous mishmash of fabrics she calls a dress.

*****************

"Glad to see you're in good spirits." Myaxx remarks, not in the least bit offended. She knows her clothing is atrocious and she's not making any excuses. But at least she can now justify what she intends to do. "Have you come up with a plan on catching Azmuth yet?"

"Have you found the schematics to that device he used?" Tetrax counters. Not to say that he doesn't have confidence in his skills but having a fallback plan was preferable.

She frowned and raised her bandaged fingers out towards him, "Does it look like I had the time to go through all his crap? It took me ages just to make this sack I'm wearing."

The mercenary bites his lip at the flecks of dried-blood staining the garment, "I can see you put in a lot of yourself into it."

"How do humans do anything with five fingers? Don't they get all tangled with each other?" Myaxx muttered as she strode in.

"It's not really difficult to coordinate with five digits," Tetrax shrugs. "But I suppose it's because I've always had five."

Myaxx nods, wordlessly planting herself across Tetrax's lap. She smirks at the wide-eyed look of surprise on his face, "Your skin still giving you problems?"

"N-not as bad as yesterday." He stammers, wondering if Myaxx had always been this soft or if it was just because she was human. _She's so small now_, he notes. She could come across as delicate and fragile with ease as long as she doesn't let loose the snide remarks and obscenities.

"Really? So this doesn't bother you?" She quirks a brow, twists her lips into a teasing leer and suddenly straddles him.

Color explodes across Tetrax's face while a lump forms in his throat. And he knows he should feel the scratchy surface of her dress but his mind seems to focus on how soft she feels through the fabric and how light she is despite pressing down her full weight on him. "I-It's making me uncomfortable, if that's what you mean."

"Does it really _feel_ uncomfortable? Or is it just the context?"

Her giggle sounds sweeter, her breath feels hotter, and her skin. _Her skin_. His fingers are sliding over every exposed part of her: Arms, shoulder, neck, then down to her thighs and legs.

Is this what they meant by silken?

She chuckles, leans in so close their noses (they actually have those things now) are touching. He smells of metal, rust and ice, she absently decides. It's unusual but familiar and comforting at the same time. Her hair tumbles over her shoulders, brushes against his cheeks and she feels his arms wind tight around her.

"Ease up, Shard," she growls at the constricting embrace, nails instinctively digging into his skin in protest.

He hisses at the pain and mutters an apology, frowning more at the fact he seemed to be just as soft as she was. His grip goes slack and he feels her trying to push him down. She's not as strong as she used to be, they can both tell. He's curious as to what she has planned and gives in, reclining so that she's now on top of him.

Her hands roam over his bare chest but he is able to suppress the shudder that wants to ripple through him.

"I see you're no longer that sensitive. Though I wonder..." She trails off, the mischievous gleam in her eyes shining brighter.

"What are you-" he doesn't get to finish his question as he is assaulted by a most alien sensation. It robs him of his breath, causes his eyes to water until he manages to grab Myaxx by her wrists and pull her hands from his sides.

"You're ticklish!" She leers, "I knew it. I just _knew_ it."

Tetrax's brows knit in confusion, "Ticklish?"

Myaxx nods, "That, Shard, is what humans call those who are susceptible to fits of laughter whenever certain parts of their body are poked and prodded." She pulls her hands free, fingers demonstrating the maneuver in the air.

He narrows his eyes at her, his scowl masking the urge to crack into a grin lest she detects his intentions, "And you know this how?"

She laughs, shrugs casually, "It was just an experiment to prove my theory, no need to be so upset."

"Well," he glowers darkly, "Aren't experiments supposed to be replicated before a theory is considered proven?"

Carmine eyes widen and then she's sprinting out of his room with Tetrax hot on her heels.


	12. Prompted 2

**Characters Involved:**  
Myaxx and Tetrax

**Prompt:** I is for "It was a one-eyed, one-horned, flyin' purple people eater". For Blouper.  
**Title:** An Hour

Tetrax had been staring (though it bordered on glaring) at the chimera's back for several hours now. He'd knocked at the door, coughed, and even called her name. Myaxx had only waved absently at him, not even bothering to look at him as she muttered something akin to being almost finished.

And normally he would have left her to her own devices, the way she would him whenever he was in the training room or engaged in planning out counter-offers for job negotiations. But she'd been wrapped up with this project of hers for weeks now and, well, he was starting to miss her attention.

He squared his shoulders (more so than usual) and marched into the room. His footfalls were heavy, and intentionally loud. Still, his presence didn't seem to register with the chimera.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, "Myaxx, you really-" And was immediately greeted with the butt of a blaster smashing into his face.

"What are you-! Oh! Shard! It's you," Myaxx blinked in surprise.

"Yes, it's me," He grimaced.

"You shouldn't have been sneaking up on me," She huffed, placing her blaster back into its holster.

"I wasn't."

"Fine, I apologize for hitting you. Now if you don't mind, I'm in the middle of something," She sighed and turned her seat towards her experiment.

Tetrax grabbed the chair's backrest and swiveled both chair and chimera round to face him. "Just what is so important about that thing that you can't give me an hour's worth of your time?"

"When did my scientific pursuits become such a big deal to you? It's not like I'm building another omnitrix or a cheap knock-off. What I do on my own time is none of your business," She snarled.

"It is when it interferes with mine."

The chimera rose to her feet, "I pay for the materials and energy fuels to run the lab. I shoulder the costs for repairs whenever my experiments go awry. I don't see how it can possibly interfere with your work."

"I'm not talking about _work_ business," he grumbled, "I meant _personal_ business."

Crimson eyes widened in understanding as a rather cruel smirk appeared on the chimera's lips. "I have a great deal of things on my mind right now, Shard. You're going to have to be more specific."

"You know what I mean," Tetrax sighed, finally adding, "Squishy."

Myaxx snickered, "Fine. An hour then. Your quarters or mine?"

"Yours. Gluto's been complaining about the noise."

* * *

**Prompt:** "Please don't leave, stay in bed. Touch my body instead."  
**Title:** Sometimes I just want fluff

Tetrax was not a heavy sleeper.

His occupation never allowed him the luxury of a deep, undisturbed sleep that didn't involve sedatives. Not even in the safety of his own ship. The ability to rouse himself at the slightest disturbance has saved his neck on more than one occasion. And he is careful to keep this bit of information about him a secret.

It allows him to lull his would-be murderers into a false sense of security as they make an attempt on his life. And whenever he and Myaxx shared the same bed, this same ability allows him to know when she gets up to leave for her room.

The first time this happened, Tetrax feigned sleep and let her leave. While he technically didn't wake up alone, it still didn't sit well with him. Any attempt at approaching the subject with the chimera ended up either as an argument or was dismissed completely.

Fine, then! If Myaxx wanted to ignore the vaxasaur in the room, so would he.

When once again Tetrax awoke to the chimera's subtle attempt at sitting up, he feigned sleep, shifted in bed, draped a heavy arm over her, and pulled her to him. He felt her squirm in his grip and he held fast.

She bit back a snarl and tried, without success, to pry herself free.

Tetrax had to keep himself from smirking when she eventually settled in his embrace. The smirk made its presence known when he heard her mutter, "Don't think I can't tell when you're pretending, Shard."

* * *

**Prompt:** "You will surrender"  
**Title:** Calling a spade a spade

"What are you doing?" Myaxx demanded, a frown on her face, and crimson eyes narrowed in suspicion at the small hard-light cube Tetrax held out to her.

The petrosapien tried an uncomfortable cough that came out more as an annoyed grunt. He stepped forward, offering the cube to the chimera, the idea of backing down not even crossing his mind. "Giving you a present."

"Why? Don't get me wrong, I like getting free stuff as much as the next alien. However, I've observed the only times you _give_ something to someone is when you want to make it up to them," she tapped the mark below her lip in thought, "And I don't recall you making any recent slights against me. Unless I just haven't found out what?"

He grimaced. The chimera had picked up on his habit of bribing others for forgiveness. Under normal circumstances, her assumptions would be correct. Except today, "You've got it all wrong."

"Oh really?" She sneered, "Elaborate."

The mercenary shifted uncomfortably before explaining in the most textbook of manners, "According to the terran calendar, today is the day my people practiced the custom of showing our solidarity and unity with one another. Usually it entailed a lengthy interaction between individuals and involved an exchange of material possessions."

Myaxx didn't look convinced.

"It's the truth," Tetrax insisted. "Up until recently I haven't had any reason to participate in this custom."

"Am I supposed to be flattered?" She asked, amused laughter edged her voice.

"Just take the damn thing!" He growled, grabbing Myaxx's wrist and pressing the cube into her hand. Without waiting for her to see what was inside, the mercenary stalked away, grumbling beneath his breath.

"Shard!"

He paused but didn't look back.

"When am I supposed to expect you for our _lengthy interaction_?"

"Eighteen hundred terran hours."

"Alright then," Myaxx smirked, a hand resting on her hip.

"Alright then," Tetrax nodded, still avoiding her gaze to hide the relieved smile creeping onto his face.

"And Shard?"

"Yes?"

"Will our date end at dinner or will there be drinks afterward?"

* * *

**Author's Notes:**  
Similar to the first "Prompted" chapter, these are drabbles/really short ficlets written based on a prompt. The first one is for the Alphabet Drabble Meme I'm doing over on my LJ/DA. The latter two are inspired by song lyrics from Maroon5's "Little of your Time" and Franz Ferdinand's "Darts of Pleasure" respectively.


	13. Prompted DarkCaster

**Characters Involved:**  
Charmcaster and Darkstar

**Author's Notes:**  
An explanation for the two drabbles' setting may be in order. See, McDuffie mentioned that Charmcaster and Hex came from an alternate dimension where humans were capable of using magic. I figured if Gwendolyn from Ben 10k can travel through time, Charmcaster could travel through dimensions and even bring back a souvenir in the form of Darkstar.

The first drabble is from the Alphabet Meme I'm doing over at LJ/DA. The second one is inspired by song lyrics from Beyonce's "Sweet Dream."

* * *

**Prompt:** T is for Test for Chibi Hime**  
Title:** Implications

Darkstar received no warning, no hint, not even an inkling of what to expect or be wary of. But he gave nary a glance at Charmcaster as he marched past the mana-witch and into the audience chamber. If she was setting him up to crash and burn due to flying blind, well, she was going to be sorely disappointed.

White teeth flashed behind the metal mask as Darkstar came to halt at the foot of a throne, "What am I supposed to call you, sir?"

"Hex will do. But once I come to power, I expect it to be preceded by High Wizard," the robed man gruffly warned. Hex leaned back in his throne, arms sleeved in arcane symbols and draped along the length of the armrest. "So you're my niece's minion."

Darkstar twitched from behind his helmet but kept his arms folded behind his back and posture ramrod straight. "I'm her _partner_," he corrected.

"Is that what she tells you?" Hex laughed mirthlessly, flashing crooked, yellowed teeth. "The girl will tell you anything so long as she gets what she wants."

"True," Darkstar nodded in assent, "But how many of these supposed minions has she bothered to introduce to you?"

The wizard laughed again, "You are certainly the first I've had the opportunity to meet face-to-face. In a manner of speaking."

The corner of Darkstar's lips tugged into a smirk, "Does my mask bother you?"

"Not at all," Hex waved carelessly with one hand while the other reached for his serpentine staff. "I'm not bothered by cowardice. Unimpressed, yes. Bothered? Of course not."

"I've found it only cowardly when the fear is unfounded and is nothing more than _smoke and mirrors_," Darkstar taunted.

Hex narrowed his dark eyes. "Do not liken my magic to your cheap theatrics."

"Then what do you call those scribbles painted on your body?" The mana-leech's smirk widened into a satisfied grin at the vermilion glow of Hex's serpentine staff.

Hex rose to his feet, brandished his staff at Darkstar and held it so close to the young man's helmet it was all but touching him. "Boy, your fool-hardy courage will be your downfall."

Darkstar stared at the snake's gemstone eyes, saw them flash with mana, and instinctively had his hand wrapped tight around the serpent's carved neck. Where his hand met the artifact, obsidian light bled. Darkstar was careful to keep his dark aura concentrated within his grip and prevented it from seeping along the length of the staff. No sense in revealing to the wizard what he was truly capable of just yet.

_Fool-hardy? I'm not the one offering me power on a silver platter, or in this case in a fancy walking stick_, Darkstar thought, clearly amused. Instead he said "I mean you no disrespect, Hex. I'm simply unfamiliar with imagic/i and all its trappings."

Hex's eyes widened in confusion, not realizing what the young man was doing. Fear flickered briefly in Hex's eyes, and Darkstar swore he heard Charmcaster's malice-filled giggle in the back of his mind. The sound made the mana-leech smile. He released his hold on the staff, watched Hex stumble back into his throne, then asked "Is something the matter?"

The wizard seemed dazed and suspicious but immediately dismissed Darkstar from the audience chamber. "I suppose you'll suffice to serve as my niece's cohort."

Darkstar bowed though his eyes never strayed from Hex's. He turned on his heels, arms folded behind his back, posture ramrod straight as he marched out to the hall where Charmcaster awaited him. Darkstar was greeted by painted lips curved into a wicked smile and a slender arm linking with his.

"Well?" She asked.

"You cast a mind-link between us. You know your Uncle better than I do. _You_ tell me."

Charmcaster beamed and whispered, "He views you a potential threat."

"He does?"

Her smile widened.

"Good," Darkstar grinned, pulling his arm free to wind it around Charmcaster's waist. "That means I passed."

* * *

**Prompt:** "A sweet dream or a beautiful nightmare."**  
Title:** No Mercy

"Do you remember the plan?" Charmcaster asked as she strolled down the dirt road leading into the woods.

Walking closely beside her, Darkstar glared at the mana-witch from the corner of his eyes. "What do you take me for? A fool?" Darkstar frowned, "Never mind don't answer that."

She laughed, mocking but affectionate, the sound often left Darkstar unable to decide whether he should strangle her or smile fondly.

"Just making certain, Darkles. I wouldn't want to have to rescue my Black Knight. Like _last_ time."

"You could have mentioned those things were _undead_ before I tried to drain them," he growled, his pace picking up as he marched into the forest ahead of her.

Again the laugh, and brisk footsteps chased after him, "But you didn't have your helmet on at the time. And I wanted to see the look on your face when you finally figured it out."

"Keep your voice down." He hissed suddenly, "Do you want them to hear us?"

"Oh come now, Darkstar, they're just pathetic rebels who think they can challenge my Uncle's rule. They're no match for a fifth-rate, no-talent hack of a wizard, let alone a witch of my caliber," Charmcaster sneered.

"Careful now. Hubris has felled a great many of heroes," Darkstar waggled a teasing finger.

"We should have nothing to fear, then," she smirked. "We're not exactly heroes."

"Perhaps we're anti-heroes?" He chuckled at the dry look she shot him. "Or perhaps we're villains?"

The nearby underbrush rustled. The mana-witch ignored the sound. The mana-leech grinned at the sound.

A dozen men armed with blunt objects and farming tools burst out from the thicket and flanked them from both sides.

"Oh look, we are surrounded," Darkstar stated, monotone and mocking.

"Whatever shall we do!?" Charmcaster gasped, exaggerated and mocking.

"Surrender!" One of the men barked, brandishing his pitchfork at the pair.

"Tell me, Darkstar: Do villains surrender?" Charmcaster asked.

He nodded, raising his arms level to his head, palms forward, "In some cases they do."

Her lips pulled taut in a devilish smirk, "I see. What else do villains do?"

Darkstar grinned, "This." Dark bolts tore weapons from hands and charred skin. "And this."

The men dropped to the ground when they were suddenly bathed in obsidian light.

Charmcaster pursed her lips, "Really? I thought they did _this_." The ground yawned open and swallowed three men whole, their screams silenced when the ground closed in on them.

The mana-leech ceased his draining. He canted his head in thought, amusement ringing clear in his voice, "Well then, tell me something, Charmcaster: What _don't_ villains do?"

The mana-witch summoned her golems. She flashed the weakened but still living rebels a warm, comforting smile. A smile that warped into a manic, vicious leer upon answering, "Show mercy."


	14. Crack: Featherweight and Gentle

**Characters Involved:**  
Myaxx, Tetrax, Gluto, and Azmuth

**Author's Notes:**  
Here are some more short "crack" drabbles.

* * *

**Featherweight**

"I'm serious, Shard," Myaxx growled, crimson eyes unaccustomedly staring up at Tetrax. "You're taking this too far."

"No, I'm not," He frowned, keeping his gaze straight lest he succumbs to his impulse of grinning smugly down at the protesting woman.

Myaxx had been complaining how making her way through the facility now took too long because of her short legs. Then again, there was always _something_ for her to criticize. Not that she hadn't done her fair share of complaining before but now it seemed like she was given a whole new subject to gripe about.

And gripe she did.

Frankly, it grated on Tetrax's nerves and sometimes he simply wanted her to stop. It was a request he couldn't make when they were in their old form. Which had nothing to do with the fact that she towered over him or that she still had her specie's level of strength. It was more because he recognized the futility of asking her to hold her tongue just long enough for him to offer a suggestion or a solution to the problem. Usually she'd dismiss him without even hearing him out.

But now? Well, he's found a way to render her speechless even if for just a few short seconds before the alien obscenities come pouring out of her mouth. The beauty lies in the simplicity of his method.

Tetrax inwardly smirked (and he is careful to keep it inward because his human features make his emotions so much more obvious). All he really had to do to stop Myaxx from complaining was scoop her into his arms without warning.

Oh she protested vehemently, was _still_ protesting vehemently, but her struggling had settled into fuming. With her arms folded across her chest and her lower lip sticking out in a childish pout, she looked more embarrassed than angry.

"Make the most of this while you can," she huffed, blowing a stray strand of her venom-green hair out of her eyes. "Because no way in hell can you carry me around when we're back to normal."

There was a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "You really don't like me carrying you like this?"

"Yes, I really don't like you carrying me like this," she repeated, staring up at him dead serious.

"Fine," he shrugged and readjusted his hold on her.

"About tiiiiiiiWHAT ARE YOU DOING!?!" Myaxx shrieked, suddenly finding herself slung over Tetrax's shoulder.

"You said you didn't like the way I was carrying you. This any better?" he chuckled.

She flailed in his grip, trying to dislodge herself but failing to achieve the proper leverage, "Damn it, you're still mad about me tickling you aren't you?"

"Maaaaaaaybe," The mercenary grinned.

"Put me down! Shard, this is not amusing!"

"I quite agree," Azmuth chirped as he zoomed past on a hovering scooter-like device. "It's not amusing, it's positively HILARIOUS."

"When I turn back to normal you two are in for a world of hurt!" The female scientist hollered, cheeks resembling the color of her eyes.

Tetrax knew she will make good her threat, but the expression on her face made it all worth it.

* * *

**Gentle**

_The following is a conversation between turned-human Myaxx and turned-human Tetrax that Gluto conveniently overheard while inspecting the air vents._

"N-not too rough, Shard."

"Sorry, but I thought you _liked_ it rough?"

"What? Whatever gave you _that_ idea?"

"Well, you do tend to scratch my skin a lot whenever you-"

"Th-that's different!"

"And you make these little growling sounds a lot too-"

"Has it _possibly_ occurred to you I do those to mean I don't like it?!"

"I wouldn't know! We never used to do any of this when we were still-"

"Normal?"

"Yes, normal."

"I don't think it's fair for you to compare the two situations."

"Why not? The only thing that's changed about us is our bodies."

"I-it's not the same."

"Elaborate, Myaxx."

"You said it yourself, you look at things differently now that you're sensitive. I just happen to have a lower threshold for pain in this weak, little form."

"So do you want me to stop?"

"... No."

"I hear a however coming up."

"However I'd just prefer it if you were more... _gentle_. You are capable of being gentle, aren't you, Shard?"

"Yes, I believe I can proceed a little more delicately if that's what you want."

"Good. But you'd better not let anyone know about it. Especially Azmuth. Who knows what the little gnat might do if he learns we're-"

"It's alright, Myaxx. No one needs to know you can't braid your hair to save your life."

"Sh-shut up! I can so braid my hair if I didn't have so many fingers!"

"Just keep telling yourself that."

"Don't forget you're still ticklish, Tetrax."

"And don't forget I can sling you over my shoulders with no problem."

"...I hate you."

"I hate you too."


	15. Broken Equilibrium

**Characters Involved:**  
Darkstar and Charmcaster

Sharp-heeled boots strode through the ajar glass door, and casually stepped over the gaunt, unconscious form of a security guard. The wearer made no sound as she strut down the unlit corridor that led into an art gallery.

With curtains drawn, and the main lights switched off, the strings of small, incandescent bulbs lining the walls cast more shadows than banished them. Chimeral creatures of conflicting features, form, and function decorated the room as surreal images and sculptures. Amethyst eyes swept past the captions beneath each piece in mild disinterest.

_Ambush._

_Stalked._

_Hunter. _

_Prey._

A white brow quirked when her eyes fell upon the figure sitting on his heels in front of the gallery's centerpiece. Hunched shoulders rose and fell in the quick succession of one catching his breath. One gray-skinned hand gripped at the few clumps of corn-silk blonde hair in frustration, while the other, sporting bleeding knuckles, hung by his side.

From where she stood, with his back to her, she couldn't help but wonder what expression could his grim features be making.

Silently, she approached him, carefully side-stepping past the toppled bust and the metal helmet littering the floor. Painted lips curled into a smirk at the centerpiece: A broken mirror gilded in ornate metal, its surface streaked in blood. She let a cruel, mocking laugh escape her throat at the caption that read "Monster."

"And here I thought Darkstar knew how to appreciate art," She snickered unkindly.

There was a sharp intake of air before he rose to his feet, slowly, ominously. He straightened himself, folded his arms across his chest and turned to face her. Sunken, dull-blue eyes narrowed in grim contempt as he answered, "Lovely Charmcaster, I appreciate works of _beauty_. Not the drivel these pseudo-intellectual posers crap out."

"I don't know. I think you fit right in with the freaks," her smile was as sweet as her voice was taunting.

"That would explain why _we_ get along, then," his smile was as ghoulish as his voice was snide. Immediately his expression turns serious, "If you're here because you want your book back-"

"Keep it. It was my Uncle's anyway and he never even knew the tome was missing," she declared with a haughty flip of her hair. "Not to mention all it contains are third-rate artifacts."

"Then why are you here?" He asked; eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"I like seeing the result of other people's failures in person," A half-truth. She had tracked him down because she had a plan that required his special abilities, but she couldn't deny her tendency to mock others of their shortcomings.

Her palms thrummed with mana when she saw his jaw clench and anticipated an obsidian blast in retaliation.

Instead, he took a step forward. Then another. And another. And another. Wordlessly, he walked towards her. _Past_ her. He nudged the fallen bust out of the way with his boot, bent down to retrieve his helmet, and headed straight for the door.

Charmcaster blinked, surprised, confused, "Just what do you think you're doing?"

He paused, glanced over his shoulder and hissed through grit teeth "I'm sparing you the indignity of being in the presence of a failure."

The mana-witch cocked her head in disbelief. No, that wasn't it. She had needled him about his past slip-ups countless times before, even rubbed salt in the metaphorical wounds while they were still fresh. He had always reacted either with a venomous insult, or an obsidian bolt.

He had never just _walked away_.

"That's it? You screwed up with the Dominus Librium and suddenly you just skulk away with your tail between your legs?" She scoffed, her body language radiating disappointment. "And here I thought you were worth my time. I expected more from you, but you're just a pathetic, poor excuse of a-"

And suddenly her wrists were in his hands. She found herself staring into livid blue eyes and seething ghoulish features just as his helmet clattered noisily to the ground. Charmcaster didn't remember ever being this near him. She had always kept a certain distance between them, just as a precaution for the mouth in his hands. But she never remembered him ever trying to close the gap, secretly or otherwise.

"I would think twice about finishing that sentence if I were you," he glowered darkly.

She snorted, unimpressed, as she tried to pull away. His grip grew vice-like, and they tightened around her wrists. Painfully. The mana-witch wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of seeing her in pain.

"I see you decided to go down a different route," Charmcaster purred through grit teeth. "Or is this just an excuse to cop a feel?"

Darkstar's cheeks flushed purple and immediately let her go, insulted and embarrassed that she would suggest such a thing. "Excuse me, but I happen to have _standards_," he sniffed in disdain before he flashed perfectly straight, white teeth, "And I say that with the utmost respect."

It was Charmcaster's turn to glare, amethyst eyes aglow with mana until they fell upon a small, golden fragment fused to Darkstar's chest. The mana-witch rolled her eyes, marched up to him, and pressed a manicured nail against the remnant of what had been the Dominus Librium. "Well _this_ certainly explains your sudden hands-on approach."

There was something immensely satisfying about watching Darkstar's eyes grow saucer-wide when he realized she knew his powers had been sealed. Equally satisfying was his attempt at lying through his teeth. Charmcaster didn't doubt his ability to weave a convincing explanation but the mana-witch grew up surrounded by magical artifacts.

"Save it, Darkles," she commanded, "Just follow me and I'll have that seal off you in no time."

Charmcaster didn't begrudge how he didn't bother to hide his distrust of her offer. If their positions had been reversed, she would have probably reacted the same way. It still didn't make it any less annoying. Again, she rolled her eyes, this time at his protests how he didn't need her help and how he could manage on his own.

"That's what you said about the Dominus Librium and look where that got you."

That certainly silenced him. But not for long apparently, for as he retrieved his helmet he demanded to know "What do _you_ get out it?"

Her smile skirted the borders between mischievous and malicious. "I'm hoping for a competent ally. But I'll settle for someone far more fun to tease."

**Author's Notes:**  
I acknowledge that Darkstar and Charmcaster are never onscreen together. But for a character who was introduced to be more familiar with technology why would he suddenly think to look for something magical unless he'd been influenced by someone? Or maybe it's just my brain insisting that DarkCaster happened. Only off-screen XD


	16. Prompted 3

**Characters Involved:  
**Myaxx and Tetrax

**Author's Notes:**

**Fold** is for the alphabet drabble meme I'm doing on LJ/DA for dragonelf231. **Marching On** is just a really short Mytrax piece. I also want to thank everyone who has reviewed and commented. I may not respond immediately but know that I do appreciate them.

* * *

**Prompt:** Q is for Queen for dragonelf213**  
Title:** Fold

There were eight of them that crowded the tiny roundtable. Shoulders were pressed up against plated arms, gelatinous tentacles were draped unceremoniously across jetboots, and hands (or the equivalent appendages) held cards close to faces. Numerous sets of eyes shifted from their hands to the sizable pile of credit disks amassed in the center of the table to their opponents and back.

It was Myaxx's turn to make the bid, "I raise twenty five hundred credits."

"I call and I raise you five thousand," Tetrax declared evenly.

Gluto groaned before throwing his hand onto the table, "That's it for me. I'm bleeding credits here and I've lost enough."

Two others followed suit, while the remaining three all met the bet.

Myaxx eyed her opponents carefully, having played them in games prior, she had figured out most of their tells including Tetrax's. Not that it meant the petrosapien sitting across her was particularly expressive. It just so happened that she had spent enough time with him to know what particular grimace meant he was lying and how to spot the ever-so-minute arch of his brow that betrayed his excitement.

To the other players, Tetrax managed what was, in their opinion, the perfect poker face. His voice never rose or fell from his steady baritone, not even when he revealed the most laughable hand. His shoulders never stiffened (well not any more than they usually were) or relaxed whenever an opponent tried to call his bluff and it turned out he _wasn't_ bluffing.

Hell, the closest thing they would be able to claim was a tell was how tightly he gripped his cards. But that was could have been because their dealer had a problem with his secretions. A card or two had slipped from Myaxx's own fingers, resulting in a misdeal, which pissed her off to no end because her hand had been a really good one.

As the game progressed, the players dwindled while the pile of credits grew. In the end only Myaxx, Tetrax, and said alien with the secretion problem remained in play. Gluto had gone back to the ship with what little amount of credits he had left while two of the other players had vacated the table to try their luck at getting a pity-drink from Choga. The remaining two stuck around just for the sake of egging whoever won into buying them a round.

Myaxx bit back a groan when she saw her cards: Useless the whole lot of them! The angry glare in her eyes was indication enough to everyone present that her attempts at raising the ante would be nothing but a bluff.

And she knew this.

Warily, she studied her opponents and made note of the tick in their countenance.

Myaxx frowned as her eyes darted back to her pathetic cards. And because the chimera is inherently selfish and self-centered she decided if she's going to lose she's taking someone down _with_ her. An evil smirk played across her lips.

By now the remaining players had room to breathe so it wasn't particularly suspicious for Myaxx to lean back in her seat.

"You calling or what?" the dealer demanded.

"Sure, I call," Myaxx shrugged casually as her leg stretched out underneath the table, her foot solidly brushing against Tetrax's shin. He almost gave a start at the sudden contact, instead the petrosapien shot Myaxx a subtle glare. The chimera ignored him.

"I call and raise you five," Tetrax declared evenly.

The dealer smirked, "I raise you ten."

Myaxx surreptitiously studied her cards while her foot inched up and down Tetrax's leg, her toes applying just enough pressure for him to feel it through his armor.

Again he glared at her.

Again she ignored him.

Her lips pursed before she tossed her remaining credits into the pile, "All in."

Instead of the controlled "All in" Tetrax was about to answer, he let out a half-yelp. Myaxx's foot was resting heavily along his inner thigh and she made sure he felt it.

Myaxx just smirked, thoroughly enjoying the alarmed way Tetrax's eyes darted from her to his cards. Of course, his eyes _could_ be darting from the chimera to his lap, but with him leaning forward and with his elbows on the table, it was difficult to be certain.

Their dealer let out a wet cackle, "Well, Tetrax? Whaddya say?"

"A-all in," he swallowed, doing his best to keep his fury and embarrassment undetectable.

"Show of hands!" the alien with the secretion problem ordered gleefully as he eyed Myaxx, "Ladies first."

"So why aren't you showing yours?" the chimera sneered. All the same she revealed: "I got nothing. Not even a pair."

The mucus-covered alien cackled, "Knew you were bluffing. Your eyes burn with rage when you get a lousy hand. And I know _you're_ bluffing as well, Shard. Ain't no way that little squeak of yours was fake."

Myaxx wasn't sure which was more satisfying a sight: The look of pure disbelief on the dealer's face when Tetrax straightened himself and revealed "Straight flush, ace high." Or the embarrassed expression on Tetrax's face when the mercenary understood the reason behind her actions.

"I'm not splitting my winnings with you," Tetrax grumped at Myaxx as she sidled up to him.

"Didn't expect you to," she smirked.

"I didn't need your help to win."

"I know that. I just wanted the game to end on my terms."

"Oh," he blinked.

"Of course I wouldn't mind finishing what I started," she smirked and marched ahead towards the ship, "But that's not my call, is it?"

* * *

**Prompt: **"For this dance we'll move with each other."  
**Title:** Marching On

Out of sight, out of mind. It is easier this way. For both of them. They don't need unnecessary distractions while they work.

Tetrax constantly risks his life with each mission, each job he takes. Myaxx has the privilege of handling the experiments (both the organic and robotic kind) during their development and especially when they go awry. Tetrax needs to keep his wits about him else face obliteration, or failure. Myaxx needs to keep her focus else end up being replaced under the grounds of incompetency or death. They aren't certain which is worse.

Their time apart is long, spanning weeks, months, sometimes years. Plans are made and canceled at the last minute and while annoying it is to be expected. Project breakthroughs happen as do Prison breakouts. And neither can be accounted for ahead of time.

Promises for Next Time fall through, apart, and by the wayside. Apologies are exchanged, forgiveness swapped, grudges squirreled away until the next grievance. A cycle bound to repeat itself, the only unknown variable being When and broken only when their frustration proves too much and things escalate into an argument. Or a series of arguments.

Arguments that are violent, and heated, and so destructive it's no wonder that most of their wages are spent to replace the resulting broken equipment. So destructive it's a wonder how they haven't killed each other yet.

When the dust settles and tempers cool, the stage is set for rational conversation and a resolution is attempted. However slow, however painful the process. They talk in circles. They beat around the bush. Tetrax is too reluctant to admit to his feelings; Myaxx is too quick to be on the defensive.

They admit to each other that they have considered ending whatever it was they had. Tetrax out of guilt, Myaxx out of convenience, neither makes any motion to act on the impulse.

Neither has any idea why. Why _don't_ they part ways?

Tetrax's occupation puts him in precarious situations more often than not. He is skilled, yes, but he is not perfect. The idea that he'll make a mistake at the worst possible moment does not escape him. (Or Myaxx.) He's not the most honest when it comes to his intentions and emotions. He has spent decades concerned with only his own well-being. He's still adjusting to the idea of taking others into consideration. The learning curve is high and he's seen first-hand the devastating consequences of failing.

Myaxx's occupation keeps her isolated from the rest of the universe over extended periods. She isn't antisocial, yes, but she isn't particularly outgoing either. She acknowledges her background and appearance are not very conducive to forming bonds with others. (As does Tetrax.) She's the chimeral equivalent of a black sheep, interested in Science for Science's sake rather than for war-mongering. She lives with the knowledge there are dangerous individuals that wish her harm simply for being what she is rather than who. The beings she associates with share the same fate and she's all too aware of this fact.

Many wonder why they bother. Many wonder what keeps them together. No one really knows.

Apart, the bounty hunter attributes it to his inability to accept defeat while the scientist rationalizes it as wanting to sate her Scientific curiosity. Apart, the parties involved are just as in the dark as the rest of the universe.

But together? Together, they remember why.

They remember in the way they speak with each other, in the way they treat each other. As comrades. As friends. As equals. As someone whose opinion matters more than the vast majority. As someone they've come to consider a steady constant in their life. As someone that understands and accepts the other despite their differences and faults.

And, in those stolen moments behind closed doors so conducive for intimacy, as lovers.

Moments such as these are fleeting. It isn't long before the alarms blare and Tetrax is off after his latest bounty, or the communicators ring and Myaxx is rushing back to the lab to help manage the experiment's sudden development.

They leave and return to their separate lives. Tetrax to the Resolute, Myaxx to the Lab.

Out of sight.

Only sometimes, in the middle of a laser fight or during the start-up of a prototype, Tetrax and Myaxx find themselves being more cautious than usual. They put off dwelling on the whys for after the fight or the start-up. By the time it ends they've forgotten what it was they wanted to dwell on.

Out of mind.


	17. Ride It Out

**Author's Notes:**  
Ride It Out is a set of experimental pieces inspired by amusement park rides and attractions. I decided against labeling the pairing(s) because it's part of the experimental aspect of the pieces.

* * *

**Go Karts**  
_When Mark Smith drove off to work that morning, he had no idea he'd be taking the bus home._

Driving alone down a deserted highway was one of the few things Mark Smith liked about his job. No other cars to worry about or watch out for. No passengers complaining how he was driving like an old lady. The sun barely peeking over the horizon, his favorite band playing on the stereo, his lips pulled into a mile-wide smile before he began to sing along.

Then, in the distance, he saw a couple of hitchhikers waiting by the road. He frowned.

If there's one thing he'd learned from all the suspense books he'd read and television shows he'd watch was that you never, _ever_ pick up a hitchhiker. They might be serial murderers looking for their next victim or escaped fugitives on the lam or who know what else.

As he neared the duo, it became obvious by the way his car was accelerating that he had no intentions of letting them join him. He didn't so much as give them a passing glance when he zipped by them. Had he taken a peek in the rear-view mirror, he would have seen one of them press his palms down to the ground. At least that way he could have gotten an idea from where the wall of crystal that shot up from the ground came.

Then again, he was too busy slamming his foot down on the brakes and swerving the car to ponder too much. Mark managed to avoid a collision and thanked his lucky stars he hadn't been going _that_ fast. He got out of his car to inspect the barrier that seemed to have sprouted out of nowhere.

As he studied the unusual obstacle, a gruff voice stated from behind him "Excuse us."

His blood ran cold once he turned around and saw it was the two hitchhikers he had ignored. "Oh God!" he squeaked, suddenly fishing for his wallet. "I'm sorry! Here! Take my money! Just don't kill me!"

"That was easy," the woman with bright, venom-green hair smirked to the broad-shouldered man standing beside her.

"We only require your vehicle," The other hitchhiker explained, staring pointedly at the wallet Mark held out to him.

"K-keys are in the car."

The pair nodded to each other and wordlessly walked to the car. Mark swallowed and carefully scanned his surroundings and found a particularly large rock. He had no intention of taking them on, but in the event they decided they wanted to leave no witness, he wanted to have something to defend himself with. He nonchalantly (well, as nonchalantly as he could) reached for the rock, and he paused when he heard the woman protest "I'm not going to fit in this heap."

With the rock firmly in his hand and hidden behind his back, Mark righted himself to listen in on the two hitchhiker's conversation.

"You could if you ride in the back," the man suggested when he studied the car.

"I still won't fit," she glowered, folding her arms across her chest. "Besides, I'll be no use lying down."

Mark stared in confusion. What was she talking about? His brow quirked when the man said "Let me try something." and motioned for the woman to step back. Mark found his eyes wrenching shut and his hands flying to cover his ears when the air was filled with the piercing screech of stone grating metal and cracking glass.

Once sweet silence returned Mark opened his eyes. And broke out into a cold sweat. He stared, slack-jawed at the sight of the woman pulling the roof off his car.

"_Now_ I'll fit," the woman grinned, visibly pleased with the result.

"You can thank me later. Just get in."

Mark continued to stare in disbelief, grip having gone slack on the large rock that lay forgotten at his feet. Had he not been too focused on how the man had sliced through metal with his bare hands or how the woman had pried the roof open with the ease of opening a bag of chips he might have noticed other telling signs that they weren't ordinary hitchhikers.

Specifically the fact that the man's shadow was blocky with a sharp protrusion on the back of his head. And that the woman's shadow stretched far beyond that of the man's and seemed to have either really thick strands of hair or tentacles.

The man kept one foot on the ground while he started the car. The engine roared to life and the barrier submerged back underground, leaving a deep gash on the road and sending Mark stumbling off road. Dazed, he watched the pair drive off, cringing each time the car stalled and had to be restarted.

Mark didn't know why (once the pair was out sight and out of ear-shot) the first words out of his mouth were "Must be his first time to drive a stick."

* * *

**Tunnel of Love**  
_Peggy Sue and Jimmy are about to find out why the line for the Tunnel of Love was so short._

"Awww, Jimmy, do we gotta ride the Tunnel of Love? It's like, the lamest ride in this dinky little carnival."

"It's just for shits and giggles, Peggy Sue, ain't like we're getting hitched or nuthin'," says Jimmy with a roll of his eyes, "Besides, all the other lines are like a mile long and I wanna spend some time with my girl that ain't us standing around."

Peggy Sue looks hesitant for a moment but when she takes a sidelong glance at the lines for the Ferris Wheel, the Roller Coaster, and even the Carousel, she reluctantly falls into the queue behind three other couples.

"That's my girl," grins Jimmy, slinging his arm around Peggy Sue's shoulders. His grin widens when she settles against him and idly expects to get beyond first base before they make it out of the tunnel.

They don't have to wait long before it's their turn to hand over their ticket stubs to the skeevy-looking carnie with tacky skeleton make-up. Peggy Sue softly whispers to her boyfriend how the ticket checker looks like he should be one of the extras in the haunted house attraction.

Jimmy snickers in agreement as he helps Peggy Sue climb into the swan-shaped raft.

"Be sure to keep a close eye on your valuables. We will not be held responsible should you lose anything _important_," Skeleton-make-up guy warns in a voice so eerie the couple thinks it's campy.

They stifle their chuckles as the raft lurches forward into the tunnel.

"Keep a close eye on your vaaaaaaluables~" Jimmy mimics when he feels they're out of the man's hearing.

"That's going to be hard to do when it's pitch-black," Peggy Sue laughs, "They sure cut corners on this ride. No wonder no one's on it."

"Must be a long one, though. Didn't see any of the other three come out to complain."

"Maybe the exit's on the other side? Some of the rides are set up like that," Peggy Sue shrugs, unconcerned.

Jimmy smirks, lets his hand slide down his girl's shoulder, and pulls her close to him. She doesn't resist, her own hands are exploring him, and she whispers "At least we get to make out."

"I suppose that's _some_ consolation."

Both Jimmy and Peggy Sue pause.

"Did you-" He asks while she gasps "Was that-"

"The old man warned you, but you don't seem to value your lives very much."

A sudden chill crashes down on them, so cold and heavy it slams them against the raft's backrest. Jimmy is out like a light, but Peggy Sue holds onto consciousness long enough to see a faint violet glow outlining a metal mask.

Peggy Sue strains but she manages to hear a female voice count "That's two down, around six more to go. We should have enough sacrificial lambs by the end of the day at this rate."

"Maybe even more," the metal mask sneers. "There's never a shortage of hormonal teenagers or nostalgic adults."

"But wouldn't setting this up in the House of Horrors have been faster, though?" The woman muses.

"If we were going for quantity, yes. But as you said, this ritual of your Uncle's requires a specific quality in its lambs. Besides," the metal mask growls, "You would have insisted I remove my helmet."

"Only because you would fit right in," the other woman laughs, mocking, amused.

Peggy Sue isn't sure why but the pressure increases that she feels splinters dig into her back, feels the raft give way more than it should under her weight. The cold intensifies sharply, chaps her lips, parches her throat.

The laughter continues to echo in her ears and the chill clings relentlessly to her skin long after the darkness claims her.

**

* * *

Haunted House**  
_The job sounded too easy not to have a catch._

"Alright, clean up team two gets the perimeters of the complex. Salvage what you can. And tidy up the campgrounds while you're at it. Teams one, three, and four, you lot get what used to be the west wing. The mercs get what remains o' the east wing," barked a the overseer from the screen of a hovering comm-bot. "And all o' you watch out for that codon-stream. We ain't gonna be held liable if any o' you fall in and end up with your DNA all scrambled."

The monitor blinked off. The groups dispersed to their respective assignments.

Heavy boots silently marched through the wreckage of what had been an R&D complex in an undisclosed location. A pair of gold eyes stared impassively at the droids and automatons clearing away the debris and pieces of shrapnel that littered the codon-stream knifing through the facility's grounds. Crystalline features remained a blank behind a helmet even as a heavily scarred tetramand mercenary paused beside him and remarked offhandedly, "Years and years of research all up in smokes in minutes. Dunno whether to laugh or feel sorry for 'em folks in this kinda biz."

"They knew the risks," was all Tetrax had to say.

"Guess so. Isn't like they was doin' this with a laser pistol to the head," the other mercenary conceded. "But you gotta wonder what they was researching if they gotta hire _soldiers_ to do clean up."

The petrosapien turned to follow after the group, "No doubt something dangerous," he stated as the group passed several charred battlesuits and war-droids whose weapon systems flickered to life now and again. But there were droid that rebooted without warning and charged at the group. And they refused to stay down unless riddled with laser-fire.

"Listen up! We's got ourselves three floors. Overseer says he can't guarantee structure integrity. Least not after the _accident_. Those who can fly takes the top, the lighter ones gets the second, and the rest of us get the ground floor," the tetramand instructed. "Keep a look out for scavengers of the loot and corpse kind. Remember, we's not out for blood so render 'em unconscious. Not _dead_. Buildin's defense system should be Fried as Fuck but after seein' those droids, we better keep on our toes."

"In a manner of speaking," a lepidopteran coughed. The joke barely took the edge off their nerves.

The teams were careful as they went to their assigned floors. Silently, cautiously, they tread down long, dented, metal corridors, inspecting each room they came across. The teams found broken furniture, shards of glass, crumpled armor, burnt knickknacks and other ruined mementos. Tetrax wished the Overseer had informed him they were doing a clean up on the residential area of the compound. Judging by the somber expression on some of the other mercenaries' faces, they shared his sentiments.

Learning that the security system was indeed Fried as Fuck, they decided going solo would cover more ground. It was clear most of them wanted to get this over and done with as quickly as possible.

While collecting whatever salvageable equipment he could find, Tetrax's heart suddenly plummeted when he chanced upon a familiar-looking shoulder-guard. He swallowed and bent down to retrieve the piece of armor. His fingers brushed over the surface, wiping away the soot and ash to reveal blood-red metal underneath.

_It's someone else's,_ he told himself, keeping the urge to panic at bay through discipline and sheer force of will. _Millions of aliens in the universe have the same armor-design. It's definitely someone else's._ And normally the thought wouldn't even have crossed his mind except he hasn't heard from Myaxx in months. The last time they spoke, the chimera only mentioned being commissioned for a sensitive project and would be unavailable for a long period of time. There were no specifics in the conversation. Tetrax knew better than to ask. Myaxx knew better than to volunteer.

They kept things vague, gave no detail apart from "that device" or "this suspect" or "the job." That was supposed to be a sign of trust, a show of faith that the other was smart enough, capable enough to stay alive in their respective fields. And Tetrax almost, _almost_ convinced himself that he was jumping to conclusions. Had he not spied the faint glow of a hard-light cube trapped under a collapsed desk.

Carefully, he retrieved the cube and after a moment's hesitation opened it. Gold eyes stared at the set of tools contained within the cube. Numbly, he held them in his hand for what felt like an eternity. The petrosapien was grateful for the angry yells that cut into his thoughts. Pocketing the hard-light cube, he went to see what all the commotion was about. His brisk walk became a run and his blaster was in his hand when he heard weapons going off.

"Stop firing, you trigger-happy moron!" The tetramand ordered.

Said trigger-happy moron complied only because the hooded figure he had been shooting at hurled a small boulder at him.

"Halt!" The tetramand barked, four pistols aimed at the intruder, "I's not gonna shoot unless you give me a reason."

"Are you all deaf!" A female voice screamed indignantly from under the hood. "I said I was friendly _fifteen_ times!"

"Friendlies don't purposely take out one of their own!" the lepidopteran pointed out as he swooped down and yanked the cloak off of a petite, humanoid, celadon-skinned she-alien.

Before she could make a retort, sirens blared deafeningly from a comm-bot that zoomed towards the mercenaries. The Overseer was visibly panicking on the monitor "Any o' you lot seen the lead researcher? She snuck outta the survivors' camp for who knows what reaso-oh! Here she is!"

The comm-bot hovered in front of the lead researcher who looked more annoyed than apologetic. "Are you bonkers? The higher ups'll have my neck if anything happened to you! There be scavengers and looters roaming around! Oy! One o' you mercs, escort her back to the campgrounds and make sure she actually stays there," the Overseer commanded and the comm-bot flew off.

"I didn't sign up for babysitting," a mercenary muttered.

"I'll go," Tetrax volunteered.

As the others returned to their original task, Tetrax noticed the lead researcher's luminescent-pink eyes were studying the east wing.

"You can't go in there."

"Oh yeah?" She sneered while staring up at him, one arm akimbo, and her hip jutting in defiance. "You gonna stop me, stone-breath?"

It wasn't the insult that Tetrax recognized. It was the inflection, the cadence, the familiarity in the way she said it coupled with her stance that made him realize it was "Myaxx?"

She huffed, folded her arms across her now-ample chest and nodded.

Relief flooded him and the fear and worry from finding her charred armor and destroyed room melted. It took every bit of his warrior's discipline to keep himself from embracing her. Instead, he told her "You look _different_."

"Way to state the obvious," she snorted. Then grew quiet. Wordlessly, they headed back to the campground.

Upon arrival, the Overseer chewed out the scientist the entire trek from the entrance to Myaxx's tent. He left with an order for Tetrax to "Make sure she stays put!"

Once inside the privacy of Myaxx's tent and the Overseer was out of earshot, Tetrax softly whispered "I'm glad you're not hurt." He smiled behind his helmet when he saw the ends of Myaxx's tentacles darken in color in what he assumed was her version of a blush. When she said nothing he continued, "I found your room. Saw your armor was ruined."

"Did you find my tools?" She suddenly asked, sounding very hopeful.

He brought out the hard-light cube, which she quickly snatched from his hand. But she didn't open it, didn't take out any of the tools stored inside. She just held it while awkwardly shifting her weight from one leg to another.

"They don't have the necessary equipment to fix the corruption in my DNA," she began. "I was planning on making something I could use to analyze my DNA before I got back to Azmuth's lab. Bastard owes for this. Imagine, lending me to this company like I'm one of his inventions!"

"Are you at least getting paid?"

"Obscenely, but that's not the point!" She snarled. "If he hadn't offered my services I wouldn't have built that stupid prototype. And if I hadn't built it, it wouldn't have gone haywire during start-up. And if it hadn't gone haywire, it wouldn't have tried to drown me in the codon-stream." Her eyes were focused on the small box she held so tightly her knuckles paled. "And if it hadn't, my DNA wouldn't have been corrupted. And if my DNA hadn't been corrupted I wouldn't have been at the off-site hospital but in my quarters when- when-"

Tremors quaked her body and her voice cracked.

Warrior's discipline be damned. Tetrax retracted his helmet and pulled her to him. Though her arms could no longer completely encircle him, her grip was the same. Fierce and tight and a little desperate but given the circumstances he couldn't fault her for it. He himself held her closer than normal and longer than usual. Even when he felt her let go he continued to hold her.

"This better not treat be special treatment just because I look different," Myaxx muttered, reluctantly winding her arms around him again upon realizing the petrosapien had no intentions of releasing her anytime soon.

"This _is_ special treatment," he smirked when she glowered at him, "Just not for the reason you think."


	18. It Takes Two

**Characters Involved:**  
Darkstar and Charmcaster

**Warning:  
**Suggestive scenes ahead.

**Author's Notes:**  
Can be interpreted as being set in a "Time Heals" sort of universe where the bad guys win _or_ a continuation of years after my earlier drabble _No Mercy_.

* * *

**It Takes Two**

It is dark in the room with the curtains drawn and the lights extinguished. Clothing with torn sleeves, frayed hems, and traces of scorch marks are strewn all over the floor. There is only a faint glow of silver shimmering from the bed that is too large for one person. Two pairs of hands grope and memorize and reacquaint themselves with the grooves and contours of bare bodies. Fingers tangle in pale hair; painted nails dig into gray skin. Their touch is never gentle even when they brush against freshly bandaged wounds, fading bruises, old scars.

"Promise me," Charmcaster demands softly into Darkstar's ear, "Promise me I'll never have to put the plan on hold because I have to come get you."

He lets her straddle him, flashes her a ghoulish smile, and answers "Only if you promise me I'll never have to act as your decoy again."

_"Promise me!"_ She hisses, fuchsia bands of mana suddenly wrenching Darkstar's hands off her body.

He picks up the note of desperation in her voice, pretends he doesn't hear the undertone of fear, and tries to hide how they make his stomach flutter and his heart beat a little faster. He stares into her amethyst eyes, searches for a trick, a lie.

Darkstar sees nothing but her sharp, angry, and slightly frightened glare. He doesn't recognize the mana-witch without the antagonism edging her words or the malice glittering in her eyes. But he can see the selfish woman he's come to know over the years in the childish pout of her lips. He can spot his formidable ally-in-villainy by her authoritative posture even when completely naked.

"I promise," he answers in spite of himself.

"Good," she smiles at him then, smug, triumphant, and somewhat relieved. She releases her hold on his hands and Darkstar doesn't need any further invitation to resume their earlier activity.

In the midst of heated kisses and guttural moans, Charmcaster sighs, "I love you."

They pause, somewhat unable to believe or accept what had just happened. Perhaps the sentiment has gone unspoken for so many years that hearing the actual words take them both by surprise.

Charmcaster opens her mouth to say something but Darkstar cuts her off.

"You don't mean that," he declares, dull-blue eyes wide in disbelief? Fear? "You _can't_ mean that!" He sounds confused, angry, _terrified_. He pushes her off him then, roughly, and sits up. He doesn't look at her as he continues, "You love what I can do for you and your plans. You love that I'm around to help you take down Hex."

He's on his feet at this point, feeling uncomfortably exposed and frantically groping in the darkness for his helmet. "You love that I need you." Immediately he regrets the words but hides this in quickly adding "-to keep your end of the bargain. You can't _possibly_ love me for me."

His fingers brush against a familiar metal surface. Before he manages to pull his helmet on, a beam swats the helmet out of his hands and yanks him back to the bed. Fuchsia tendrils pin him against the silken sheets, and he thrashes against them, anticipating physical retaliation from Charmcaster. Instead, the mana-witch just sits there, arms folded across her bare breasts, a painted nail tapping impatiently against her skin while she waits for him to calm down.

The tendrils don't let go even when he finally stops struggling.

"Are you done with your little tantrum?" She asks; her voice snide and a little disappointed.

He doesn't answer, doesn't even bother to meet her gaze when he growls, "That was an unnecessarily cruel joke."

"That was no joke, Darkstar," she tells him simply.

He doesn't believe her. He's watched her seduce other men before, heard her tell them sweet lies of loving them, seen her make empty promises that her words are sincere far too much and far too often to think her capable of actually meaning it.

Whether or not there is truth to her words doesn't bother him in the least. It's that he wishes, that he _wants_ them to be true that bothers him. Because that would mean... well, _what_ exactly? He doesn't know. Rather, he pretends he doesn't know. He's very good at lying to himself.

_Especially_ to himself.

He feels her hands grab the sides of his face and force him to look at her. The pain in her eyes surprises him before it hurts him.

"It was a slip of the tongue," Charmcaster explains, "You know what those are like. You say something in the heat of the moment without thinking or meaning anything by it. You've had one of those, if I recall. You remember? That time when you called me _Gwen_ while I let you feed on me."

He can hear the amusement in her voice now, but he remembers too clearly the fury she had shown him then.

"You used a truth spell on me, didn't you? And I told you I only meant that your mana was as potent as Gwen's."

"Yes, and if you were capable of casting a truth spell I'd let you," she frowns in annoyance.

"How convenient for you that I can't," he sneers.

"Right now it isn't," she shakes her head. "You're just going to have to take my word for it."

"You expect me take the word of a constantly manipulative liar?" He scoffs.

"No more than I do yours," she counters, irritated.

Darkstar realizes she has a point. "I'm listening."

"Good, because this is the last time I'll tell you that it was a slip of the tongue."

"_Just_ a slip of the tongue?"

"Yes," she nods firmly.

He narrows his gaze at her, chapped lips pressing into a grim line to hide the conflicting feelings of relief and disappointment currently warring in his mind. Finally, "I believe you."

"Do you mean that?" she asks.

He doesn't fault her for her suspicion. "Yes, I do."

It takes a while before the mana tendrils dissipate back into the aether.

"Good," she nods, glances at the junction of his thighs, and smirks, "But I can see you're no longer in the mood to finish what we started."

"And whose fault is that?" he snarls, his cheeks suddenly turning a darker shade of purple.

Charmcaster laughs as she climbs on top of him to rest her cheek against his chest. Darkstar debates between pushing her off him and siphoning her mana. He is still weighing his options when he feels her cast the invasive mind-link spell.

He opens his mouth to snarl at her when he hears her whisper _" I never said I didn't mean it, though."_

He stares at her, anger and disbelief rising once again. "Why would you bring that up again?"

_"Just wanted to confirm you have feelings for me too,"_ she replies matter-of-factly.

"What makes you think I even-"

_"You wouldn't have freaked out if you didn't,"_ She grins like the cat that ate the canary.

Unable to deny the verity of her claim, he turns away to hide the furious blush of his face.

Charmcaster laughs. Aloud. In that affectionately mocking way that makes him unable to tell if he wants to strangle her or smile. When she leans forward to kiss him and orders him to finalize their plans of vengeance on the High Warlock Omen, Darkstar decides it's the latter.


	19. Dual

**Characters Involved (respectively):**  
Charmcaster and Darkstar  
Myaxx and Tetrax

**Author's Notes:**  
The first drabble happens at some point after "No mercy" but several years before "It Takes Two." Prompt is from David Archuleta's "Touch My Hand." The second drabble happens before Alien Force. Prompt is from New Found Glory's "I Don't Want To Know."

* * *

**Prompt:** "A wonder wall of stars."  
**Title:** At A Glance

Darkstar didn't know how it happened. He didn't understand any of the magical mumbo-jumbo Charmcaster and Hex prattles on about. All he knew was that he and Charmcaster had been captured.

They were bound in iron manacles and magical wards before they were separated and thrown into rune-inscribed cells. Initially, his captors wanted to remove his helmet. They thought twice when they saw what was beneath it. Darkstar made a mental note of their faces.

When whispers of torturing prisoners reached his ears, he fought the immediate urge to panic. He hated being afraid. Fear made one weak and helpless.

Darkstar refused to be either.

He didn't know who they would interrogate first. Darkstar assumed they'd start with him, Charmcaster's no-name companion. They probably thought he'd be easier to break. Chapped lips parted into a ghoulish smile when only two guards came to fetch him.

They were underestimating him. Grateful as he was for the opportunity, he couldn't help but feel slightly insulted.

The door swung open.

Two obsidian beams shot out and hit their mark.

Two gaunt husks collapsed to the ground.

Energy coursed through his body, enough that allowed him to break free of the manacles. Rifling through the guards' bodies, he managed to find a set of keys. As much as he would have wanted to take his time in draining his victims, Darkstar knew time was of the essence. Someone was waiting for him and he didn't doubt that someone would realize the guards were taking too long in retrieving their prisoner.

He had to find Charmcaster. And fast.

As he stepped out of his cell, he realized he had no idea where they had taken her.

"Well, this is inconvenient," he muttered, staring down the labyrinth-like prison block. Going through each hallway and looking into each cell would take too long.

He shut his eyes, emptied his thoughts, and breathed. One by one, tiny pinpricks of lights winked behind closed lids. They shimmered, wavered, some moved, some stood still. To anyone else, they all looked the same. They had the same intensity, the same color, the same manner of twinkling.

But Darkstar was not anyone else.

One glance was all he needed, once glance was all he took before he knew where she was.

Their captors had placed them at opposite ends of the prison block. Breathing heavily, he finally reached her cell and found her inside, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Don't you know it's rude to keep a lady waiting?" She snapped.

He smirked, taking his time as he unlocked the door. "Of course, but we both know you're no lady," he chuckled.

* * *

**Prompt:** "You never seemed to mind the awkward ways we meet."  
**Title:** RSVP

"Get us out of here," Tetrax barked, sliding into the chair directly behind Gluto's and strapping himself in more out of habit than any conscious concern for safety.

The gelatinous pilot didn't need any further coaxing as the Resolute's engines roar to life, thrusting them up and away from the volley of laser-fire and the flaming wreckage that had been a warehouse district just moments ago. A handful of ships, small and swift, began their own exodus from the scene, more interested in getting away than bringing anyone down.

_Good, I'm not paid to do damage control,_ Tetrax grimly thought to himself as his craft broke through the planet's atmosphere and hurtles them out into space. He leaned back into his seat, closing his eyes wearily, waiting for the artificial gravity to take effect. When the force on his body switched from a push from the air to a pull from the floor he undid the restraints and rose to unsteady feet.

"I'll be in the Training Room." His tone was clipped as he turned away to ignore the concerned protests of his navigator. "Don't worry, I'll stop by the medic bay first," he assured Gluto, waving a hand dismissively, ignoring the burning pain shooting through his limbs from the numerous cracks spiderwebbing the length his arms.

He glared angrily, less at his injuries and more at how quickly the sting operation had degenerated into chaos. This would be the last time he ever worked with the _that_ group for less than an astronomical fee, he decided. His frown deepened into a scowl, crystalline brows furrowing at the memory. Bad enough their mark seemed to know just what to expect, but he managed to escape with the goods thanks to a certain female chimera's stealth-mask.

And the only reason Tetrax even knew it was hers was because he had _seen_ her give it to the mark ten minutes before they would carry out the plan. He shouldn't have been surprised. Not really. They've both dealt with far less savory individuals before and with her back in the galvan's service, she had access to better tools, better equipment, and the raw material to develop all manner of dangerous gadgets to be sold to the highest bidder. It was only natural she'd put it to her full advantage.

But he felt... bothered. By what exactly? That she was aiding someone Tetrax was trying to take down? That something of hers had turned months of careful planning into a complete waste of time? Or that she was alone and could very well get caught in the crossfire? Broad shoulders tensed as his mind began to imagine various scenarios, various what ifs of what could have happened to her after all hell broke loose.

"Captain?" Came the uneasy squelch of Gluto's voice over the intercom.

"What?" Shard grunted tersely, willing away the gruesome images as he finished slathering a thick layer of healing salve on the fissures marring his skin.

"You have a call."

"Not now."

"It's on the triple-encrypted line."

Tetrax paused. Briefly. "Patch it through."

There was the white noise of static, then a sharp, female voice snarled out of the speakers, "What the _fuck_ were you doing on Rioglo Prime?"

Tetrax winced at the she-alien's acidic tone before he responded with a snarl of his own, "I should ask you the same thing! I warned you not to use Rioglo Prime as a drop-off point!"

"I asked you if it was in general and you told me in general! That just meant I needed to be extra careful I'm not being tailed. _Not_ that someone was planning on catching a mark with everything they've got!"

"You can't expect me to divulge classified information just because we're on intimate terms!" he roared, not caring how his voice reverberated against the walls. "Anything can go wrong and obviously something _did_ go wrong today!"

"I had nothing to do with whatever fucked your plans up, so don't you dare try to pin the blame on me, Shard!" she snapped.

"I'm doing no such thing!"

"The fuck you aren't!"

"Well, stop taking out your anger on me!"

"The fuck I am!"

"Yes, you are, Myaxx!" he hissed.

"No, I'm not, Tetrax!" she hissed back.

Silence.

A beat.

"We still on for dinner next week?" the chimera quietly asked.

Gold eyes blinked before the petrosapien gave his equally quiet answer, "Yes."

"Good," her smile was audible in her voice, and the line went dead when she hung up.

Tetrax released the breath he didn't he realized he'd been holding, slumping soundlessly against the wall, a small, relieved smile on his lips.


	20. Prompted 4

**Characters Involved (respectively):**  
Myaxx  
Myaxx and Tetrax  
Charmcaster and Darkstar  
Argit

**Author's Notes:**  
None of these drabbles are even remotely connected to each other or to previous drabbles I've written. Prompts are as follows: "Showerhead" by Eve6, "(Coffee's) For Closers" by Fall Out Boy, "9mm and a 3 piece suit" by Catch22, and "Everything Went Numb" by Streetlight Manifesto.

* * *

**Prompt:** "Some sick sign of affection."  
**Title:** Closer Look

A crimson eye twitched in barely restrained anger as the young chimera stared in disgust and disbelief at the recently published Science Journal. It was _her_ design they were hailing as a stroke of genius, _her_ idea they were applauding, but it was _not her_ name they were crediting.

"What the fuck is this?" she demanded, slamming the volume down on the table of the wizened mass of wrinkled tentacles and clammy skin that was her mentor.

He squinted through his glasses at the open page, "I should think you would be able to recognize your own prototype."

Her scowl deepened as she pointed to the name printed beneath the image, "With all due respect, last I checked _Myaxx_ isn't spelled as _Corvax_!"

"It most certainly isn't," was the elder chimera's casual response.

"Aren't you going to call them and clear this up?" she growled.

Corvax sighed and removed the spectacles from his face, wiping them in slow, methodical circles as he answered, "Not when there's nothing to clear up."

"Ex_cuse_ me?" she roared, rearing up to her full height to loom over the seated chimera.

"Come now, Myaxx, you don't really expect them to believe an apprentice as young and as unknown as you could be capable of producing something like this? They'd never even think about testing it. No, I did you a favor in submitting it under _my_ name." He slid the glasses back onto his face and stared at her pointedly, "Now if there isn't anything else, I'll see you in the lab tomorrow."

Fists clenched and unclenched over and over as Myaxx left, muttering beneath her breath, "This isn't over, asshole."

And indeed it wasn't.

Come the next morning, Corvax found his apprentice hunched over a microscope and furiously scribbling down notes on a pad. He coughed a greeting; saw her shoulders tense as she straightened herself to respond in kind.

"What do you have there?" he asked, walking towards her past the other apprentices and their mentors. She eyed him suspiciously, and he supposed she would have her guard up after finding her device with his name on it. But that was just how the way things worked and at least she learned it now while she was young and still filled with ideas.

After a moment's hesitation that lasted far too long for Corvax, Myaxx admitted, "I'm not really sure."

"Let me take a look," He offered what was the chimeral equivalent of an olive branch and frowned at the trepidation that flashed across her face. "Let me take a look." This time it was an order.

Begrudgingly, Myaxx stepped aside.

Corvax raised his glasses to peer into the microscope, ridges forming where brows would have furrowed in confusion. "I don't see anything," he declared.

"Really?" She didn't sound surprised. "Maybe you just need to look closer. Here-" An unbelievably strong hand gripped Corvax by the cap of his skull and pulled him inches away from the microscope. "Let me help you."

The duet of an agonized shriek and the sickening squelch of metal impaling flesh filled the lab as Myaxx drove Corvax's face into the microscope.

* * *

**Prompt:** "Preach electric to a microphone stand."  
**Title:** Cheese

"What's this?" Tetrax asked in curiosity as he idly ran blocky fingers over the holocorder Myaxx placed on the console.

"No idea. But my supplier of ionized gardanium fragments said whatever is on it was very relevant to my interests," she shrugged, amicably depositing herself on a seat in the Resolute's bridge. "Figured I'd stand a better chance of watching it in peace here than at Azmuth's. The old grump's extra testy lately."

Tetrax regarded the recording device with mild concern but eventually handed it over to Gluto who hooked it up to a projector.

_A grainy image with two figures, their blocky shapes disturbingly familiar, suddenly appeared. The smaller of the pair spun on its heels and growled in a raspy female voice, "I thought I told you we could never see each other again."_

_"But why?" demanded the larger male, his voice whisper soft. He ran up to her, stocky arms encircling her more slender form. "I don't understand. Why can't we-"_

_"Because you never really loved me!" she cried, roughly pushing him away as large spikes sprouted from the ground._

There was the sound of scratching from the holocorder and the grainy scene came into focus.

_Revealing two petrosapians standing between a wall of crystals the female had erected. _

_"You only wanted to get close to my father," she accused, her hands balling into fists. "You used me! You lied to me!"_

_Silence answered her._

_"I may have lied about why I wished for your hand in the beginning. But the more time I spent in your presence," he pressed his hand and his forehead against the wall, "The more I began to realize I truly was in love with you. And that I truly want us to be together."_

_"I cannot trust you anymore," she moaned, burying her face in her hands. "How do I know you're not lying now?"_

_An eternity of silence passed between them before finally the wall fractured and he appeared in her view._

_"I may be made of stone," he reached out to gently stroke her cheek, "But my heart is not."_

Two beams shot out from two blaster muzzles. Myaxx and Tetrax had both drawn their weapons and opened fire on the hapless projector, effectively destroying the holocorder along with it.

"Who did you say your supplier of ionized gardanium fragments were?" Tetrax asked with a frown.

"This one-eyed Rioglan hiding out on Werase Sur," she answered with a grimace.

"I take it we're paying him a visit," Gluto sighed as the mechanical legs of his suit marched him to the console to input the coordinates. Judging by the embarrassed look on Myaxx's face and the indignant glower on Tetrax's, the navigator decided if he ever wanted to know how the movie ends, he ought to be the first one to meet up with the supplier.

* * *

**Prompt:** "Hey motherfucker, who's the fool?"**  
Title:** Take Two

A gathering of villainy was how it was presented to Charmcaster. Fellow aspiring world-conquerors coming together to plot out ways to kill the hero-trio they so loved to hate. There were some she recognized from her younger days, familiar faces, familiar animosity, back when she first gave the whole working-in-a-team-thing a shot under the pathetically uncreative moniker of Negative Ten.

Which, when she thought about it, hadn't been _that_ terrible an ordeal. It had almost worked. Up until the moment they all remembered what selfish, backstabbing, manipulative individuals they were. The whole thing sort of imploded at that point. The alliance collapsing in on itself like a house of cards, then it was every man, woman, and freak for him, her, itself. Charmcaster remembered vowing never to try anything as stupid as trusting someone who wasn't her or completely under her control when she fled.

So why was she here? Why was she in this dark, abandoned warehouse that stank of pencil shavings and floor polish? Why was she sitting atop one of the sealed crates, listening to the ranting freak that smelled like he's never encountered the concept of gargling?

"Why the fuck should the Circus Freaks listen to you, old man?" he demanded, the floor hissing from the acidic spittle that dripped from his mouth.

"Because you've always been better minions than cohorts," the silver-haired scientist explained calmly, slowly, making it obvious he doubted the trio of pale mutants could understand his words. "And you are all clearly lacking in mental alacrity, which I am more than capable of providing."

Cords of red hair, thick and tipped with solid metal spheres, bore down on the ground, a hair's breadth from where the aging Animo stood.

"We all got something to bring to the table, which puts us all on even footing," Acid Breath continued.

"But we _aren't_ equal," a smooth voice countered.

The Circus Freaks turned towards the source, as did Animo, Charmcaster noted. The mana-witch didn't so much as shift in her seat nor did she let anything but a bored expression appear on her face. Unlike the obvious surprise of the three mutants, and the clear suspicion of the scientist.

"You want to make something of it, newbie?" the mouthy mutant growled, gesturing to his large companion towards the young man masked in a metal helmet. The shrugging of unconcerned shoulders prompted the brute to grab him by the front of his metal collar, yanking him up off the ground with the intentions of doing more than shaking him violently.

"And just what can _you_ do, punk?" The self-proclaimed spokesman of the Circus Freaks sneered, his mouth parting in a wide grin that revealed rotting teeth.

Charmcaster held her breath. And it had nothing to do with the stench of the mutant's breath. Thumbskull was suddenly on the floor, and the mana-witch couldn't believe his already pale skin could take on a deathlier pallor. Twin obsidian beams flecked with silver shot out from his hands, each shaft of dark light colliding against Frightwig and Acid Breath's chest, cocooning the two in darkness, and sending them to their knees.

"I can shut you up," the masked man stated casually, as if he was merely commenting on the weather. "Whether temporarily or permanently is entirely up to you." The smile behind the metal was audible and Charmcaster felt a shiver race up her spine as she realized just why she was here. Her lips curled into a smile of their own when her sharp violet eyes met with the pair of faded blue lurking behind the helmet.

Maybe she _will_ give this working-in-a-team thing another shot. Sans the trio of pale mutants and the silver-haired scientist of course.

* * *

**Prompt:** "The black hat men never win in the end."**  
Title:** Universal Punching Bag

His head's throbbing, his vision's blurry, and he swears he has a few broken bones and a couple of missing teeth. _All in a day's work,_ he grimaces, rising to unsteady feet and falling down on his tail when his knees buckle. He curses violently, loudly, his voice echoes in the dingy, grime-covered walls of the alley, uncaring if he's heard.

"What are they gonna do to me? Mug me?" he sneers, "Too fucking late for that, dumbass, the Vreedle Brothers already beat you to it."

He makes another attempt to stand. Fails said attempt and decides to give up struggling and just lie there for the rest of the night. He's slept in worse conditions after all. What was one dumpster in a dark, unlit alleyway?

Come the morning, several tabloids had printed their headlines as: "Deli Serves Mutant Rats."


	21. Uncharted Territory

**Characters Involved:**  
Myaxx and Six-Six

**Author's Notes:**  
This fic/drabble-thing takes place in the _amazing_ AU fic Eternal-Night-Ride wrote entitled "Already Over." I recommend you read that before proceeding with this, particularly Chapter 3, which is when this roughly takes place in. Eternal-Night-Ride is also the incredibly talented Kapaychan on DA and you should really stalk her works and fics if you're a Benlie or Allie or Benliedo fan. Or if you just like awesome traditional art and well-written things in general. I now ship 6MT in AO-verse. (As if I needed any more crack!ships.) Darn j00, Kapaychan, DARN J00!

**Prompt:** K is for Kilimanjaro**  
Title:** Uncharted Territory

Myaxx wakes to poorly lit surroundings, a splitting headache, the smell of rotting wood in her nose, her legs tucked beneath her, and her arms tied behind her back. She tests the fortitude of her bonds, snarls when they prove tight and unyielding to her struggles.

"Save strength."

She whips her head towards the thick-accented voice, breathes an expletive when her head throbs and her vision swims from the sharp movement. A faint click, and she screws her eyes shut from the light flooding the small room. The wave of dizziness passes and the pressure in her head subsides. She peers between her lashes, her lids flying open at the sight of the figure standing in the doorway.

"Six-Six," she states evenly despite the jack-hammering of her heart.

The aforementioned mercenary cracks a smug, somewhat lopsided smirk and pushes a nearby crate towards her. Myaxx doesn't miss the slight limp in his gait. She is extra fearful of her life because of it. Her guard stays up; even when it turns out the crate was simply going to be a makeshift chair.

Unconsciously, Myaxx straightens herself as they stare at each other. Seconds tick by and Six-Six continues to wordlessly sit in front of her, studying her, possibly even sizing her up. At least she thinks that's what he's doing because she most certainly is. She notes his shoulders are not as broad as Tetrax's, but his lean, muscled frame still makes for a menacing figure. Especially with the numerous scars marring his face.

"You shot me," he states, matter-of-factly, a hand patting his right thigh gingerly.

"You were chasing us," she answers just as casually, though she's bracing herself for a blow.

"Just Tetrax," he corrects her, a wry, toothy grin now on his lips, "You? Wrong place, wrong time."

"Story of my life," she mutters with a frown. That was how she ended up in Incarcecon after all. Someone from somewhere just happened to recognize her and decided to rat her out. "So why go after me?"

"Tetrax hard to follow. I thinking make him come look for Science-girl be easier. You his lady-friend, no?"

She snorts, pretending her heart doesn't flutter at the very thought, "Hardly."

The mercenary laughs, low and throaty and devoid of humor. It isn't a terrible sound but it grates on her nerves all the same. "You usually better liar than this," he chides.

Myaxx flinches when the back of his hand brushes against her cheek, suspicious eyes watching him twine his fingers around strands of her hair.

"You aim good," he tells her.

And she blinks in confusion.

He motions to his body, "Chest and stomach bigger target. But you hit leg."

"It stood to reason you'd be wearing Kevlar," she shrugs, trying to sound flippant as she juts her chin defiantly at him.

"Still hurt if hit."

"It wouldn't have slowed you down enough for us to get away."

He gets up from his perch on the crate, brings himself to the floor to sit on his heels, his hands now resting on his thighs. "Why only slow down? Why not kill?" He leers at her, "Like before in Incarcecon?"

Myaxx's eyes narrow at him in a defensive glare, "Those were different circumstances. I had no choice."

He laughs again. At her this time. Still low and throaty and devoid of good humor. It still isn't a terrible sound but it makes her blood boil. "Science-girl no want to shoot man dead but strangle fellow prisoner just fine?"

She goes rigid, "How did you-"

He's suddenly in her face, leaning so near she can tell he smells of wet leaves and pine needles. His scars are uglier up close, she decides, and instinctively she shrinks back, trying to seek shelter in the wooden wall behind her, hearing the structure creak as she presses her back flush against the rotting surface.

"Was in Incercecon too," he explains, rising to his knees, looming over her, "Not _in_ in. Was hiding around perimeter. Waiting. Watching."

She is certain she does not like the predatory twist of his lips when his eyes rove over her bound form.

Her rage shoves her fear away when his hands, rough and calloused, slide over her thighs. She jerks forward sharply, smashing her forehead against his nose, feels cartilage give way against bone, and he howls in surprise. When he falters back, Myaxx takes her chance and kicks against the floor, plowing her shoulder into his chest, sending his off-balanced body into the wall.

The weakened wood splinters under him, revealing the woodland on the other side. Her long strides turn into a mad dash, and Myaxx bounds over the fallen mercenary. He's snarling something she doesn't understand, but she doesn't particularly care until her escape gets cut short when an iron grip clamps around her ankle and the damp ground rushes up to greet her. She grunts when her face impacts against the soil, angry expletives are quick to follow as stars wink before her eyes.

She doesn't have the chance to gather her bearings before she's roughly dragged back inside. Blindly, she kicks at him, succeeding only in making him curse louder, angrier. Frustrated with her limited mobility she continues to ignore the menacing growl of his foreign words. Her struggles increase in fervor when she feels him straddle her prone form, snarling obscenities at him when his weight, bearing down the small of her back, robs her of whatever leverage she might have had. Even as he tightly fists his hand in her hair and yanks her head up painfully, she continues to writhe beneath him.

A knife is suddenly pressed against her throat. And Myaxx goes stock still.

He's crooning softly to her now, in his native tongue, which means she doesn't understand a lick of it but she doubts it's anything good. Besides, she's a little too focused on the way the hand holding the weapon to her neck is trembling from barely restrained fury. She doesn't dare swallow, doesn't cry out when the blade draws a thin trickle of blood, doesn't even breathe. Instead she screws her eyes shut and braces herself for the worst.

"Give up?" he rasps in English.

He takes her silence as an answer of the affirmative kind.

Even though he pulls the knife away from her throat, Myaxx knows better than to make a sigh of relief.

Six-Six flips her onto her back and she wishes he hadn't. Now she can see his eyes are bloodshot, the corners of his mouth are upturned in a deranged grin, and the expression on his disfigured face can only be described as feral. She wholly wishes the wooden floor beneath her would swallow her. Or him. Preferably him because _fuck_ it all, she still very much wants to live!

Absently he trails the knife along the curve of her collarbone, the wicked glee of his eyes betraying the casual tone of his voice when he tells her, "You broke nose."

"It's an improvement," the snide remark slips past her lips before she's even aware of it. She silently yells at herself to shut up and hisses when the knife digs lightly into her, steel just barely breaking skin.

"Science-girl have pretty mouth," he remarks, leans down so close she can feel his breath against her face. "Betting you're a biter," he chuckles, grinning widely. And for an instant, he looks like he intends to find out.

She glares up at him, her lips pinching into a grim line, the blade's edge on her body threading fear into her veins. He sits back up, bringing the knife eye-level to admire the freshly drawn crimson liquid, "Tetrax know you think only of self?" he asks, angling the knife so the light glints off its surface.

Myaxx chooses to hold her tongue. She has an idea of where this particular conversation might lead but she would rather not preempt anything.

"No shame in that, no?" He continues amicably, "Self _very_ important. I think of what good for self all times."

Silence.

"Science-girl wrong place, wrong time, is all," gingerly he taps the knife against his cheek, "Can go if tell where Tetrax be."

Her eyes narrow at him, "You expecting me to sell him out?"

"Yes," he nods simply.

She snaps with more anger than should be necessary. And she is angry. At Tetrax for somehow making it look like there was something going on between them. At Six-Six for making this offer. And mostly at herself because she's actually _considering_ it. But why shouldn't she? It isn't as if she was one of the freedom fighters. Certainly they had broken her out of Incarcecon because she claimed she was Azmuth, but she couldn't be blamed for taking the opportunity when it presented itself to her, could she? And that was what was happening right now, wasn't it? Just another opportunity knocking at the door.

"What then?" His voice cuts into her thoughts.

She levels a steely gaze at him, her heart hammering in her chest as she weighs her options. "If I tell you where we're supposed to meet up," she begins softly, "Then you'll let me go? You won't try to ship me back to Incarcecon?"

The twisted smirk on his face is patronizing in its triumph. Frankly, it pisses her off, makes her want to tell him to go fuck himself because she's not telling him shit. And she would have, if it weren't for the fact he could easily kill her. "I'll tell you the location but you have to cut me free first."

"Why I want do that?"

"Are you saying you have no intention of honoring the deal?" she glowers. "The deal that _you_ offered, in case you forgot."

He studies her suspiciously, "Or could keep you until Tetrax come."

"_If_ he's even looking," she counters, the bitter undertone in her voice does not go unnoticed.

An endless cycle of heartbeats pass while Six-Six mulls his decision over. When Myaxx thinks he's going to reject her, she feels his weight lift from her stomach.

"Okay, will cut you free. Show of good faith, no?"

She carefully sits up, turns to expose her back, watches him from the corner of her eye as he slices her bonds. As she slowly gets to her feet, she rubs the sore muscles in her arms and where the ropes chaffed her skin. She faces him, the movement small and deliberate, and she straightens to her full height. Myaxx can't help but notice Six-Six is marginally smaller than Tetrax.

He seems surprised to learn just how tall she really is, the smirk curling into a leer from the fact that he was eye-level to her chest. Her face flushes when his gaze lingers unnecessarily long at her breasts before it reaches her face.

"Big girl," he says. She doesn't like the suggestive gleam in his eyes.

"I know," she huffs. However, she _does_ like the way the knife drops from his hand, how he can't seem to breathe, and how he practically folds in half when she drives her knee straight into his solar plexus. Again she lifts her knee and hears the satisfying crack of bone hitting bone when it connects with his jaw. By the time he falls to the floor, she's sprinting out into the woods.

Somehow she manages to make her way to the meeting spot and finds Tetrax waiting for her. He sounds calm when he demands to know why she was injured and whether or not she was alright. Myaxx gives him a flippant remark, tries to sound offended when she asks if he's suggesting she can't take care of herself. It isn't very convincing because the exhaustion finally catches up to her and she all but collapses into his arms.


	22. In Space

**Characters Involved:**  
Darkstar and Charmcaster

**Author's Notes:**  
Set in Time Heals where the bad guys _still_ win. Sorry Gwen, your initial tampering caused that timeline to exist and any further attempt to "correct" it simply created _another_ timeline that is different from yours _and_ Time Heals.

* * *

_"The moon is old, all dusty craters.  
Fear and panic orbit Mars.  
Saturn's darkside rings are just plain beautiful."_

The evening air smelled of freshly upturned soil, melted alloy, burnt ozone, scorched robes. Charred flesh. The atmosphere had crackled with energy before a low-ranked warlock stumbled to the ground. Instantly he was on his knees, begging and groveling at the feet of the platinum blond mana-witch looming over him.

"Y-your Highness, I don't understand, w-why am I being punished? I did as you commanded!"

Charmcaster wagged a chiding finger at him, the tips of her painted nails sparking with mana, "In a manner of speaking, yes, Omen, you did. But you were sloppy and I don't tolerate work being half-assed."

"N-not all of us can be as precise as that technopath," Omen reasoned.

"Oh please. I gave you very simple instructions, specific perhaps, but they were simple enough someone dumb as a rock could follow them. Case in point: Kevin," she sneered in reference. "Even that idiot managed to erect the beacon _exactly_ where I told him to, and he can't even think for himself."

"G-give me another chance, I beg you," Omen sniveled, crawling towards Charmcaster to kiss the tips of her boots several times before staring up at her hopefully.

She rolled her eyes at the pathetic display, sneering down at him in distaste before stomping down on his face while her lips pulled into a smirk. The sickening squelch of her spiked heel driving into his eye socket decidedly far more satisfying than his blood-curdling shriek of agony.

"_See_ to it you don't mess up next time," she chuckled lightly at the pun, "Or I might not be so merciful."

When Omen had crawled away to nurse his injury and mourn his lost eye, Charmcaster turned her gaze heavenward for a brief moment. "If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself," she sighed, stalking from the dirt road and back towards the small town she had inspected just moments ago. One of her golems trudged up to greet her with the aforementioned beacon in his arms, awaiting further orders from the mana-witch, blankly staring at nothing in particular.

There was the faint sound of rustling cloth from a body shifting its weight, then several thunderclaps. Bullets embedded themselves in the stone hand that had suddenly shielded the side of Charmcaster's face. With the snap of her fingers, the golems swarmed the young man dressed in a blue and gold varsity jacket that had emerged from an abandoned house.

"Oh wonderful, the place still has vermin. Figures Omen can't even properly pick a town clean," she sighed out of annoyance, completely uninterested in the tirade pouring forth from her assailant's mouth. A tendril of mana shot out from her open palm to wind around his neck at a particularly nasty slur. "You kiss your mother with that mouth?" she scoffed.

"She's dead, you bitch! Your monster freaks killed everyone!" he managed to scream despite the chokehold.

"Last I heard the rest of your little town-folk are enjoying a better life in the city. I was even generous enough to provide the transportation. It's not my fault you and whoever else my golems had to take care of were too stupid to take the hint and leave," she snorted none too delicately, the mana-tendril closing slowly around his throat until the young man's lips tinged blue. "But at least you get to see what I have planned," a cruel grin graced her lips. _Now there was an idea._ "Would you like a front row seat?"

Elsewhere, in a space station orbiting around the Earth, Darkstar was standing on the observation deck, searching the blue planet with his faded-blue eyes for _something_. What exactly, he didn't know. Charmcaster had been particularly cryptic with her mind-link message.

_"You'll know it when you see it,"_ she promised him.

He had been watching and waiting for half an hour and finally he spotted it in the hemisphere where night had fallen. Chapped lips pulled into a fond but ghoulish smile behind his helmet, the corners of his eyes crinkling from the act.

On the surface of his homeworld were pinpricks of light arranged to form an eight-pointed star.

_"You've been complaining how there's absolutely nothing of interest to see from up there. I figured this would get you to shut up about it,"_ her voice teased in his mind.

_"Is there a reason why one particular dot is brighter than the rest?"_ he asked, a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

_"That one just had more fuel to burn."_

_"Now, now, lovely Charmcaster, what did I say about you needlessly wasting mana?"_

_"I figured if it isn't_ mine _it wouldn't matter as much to you."_

And Darkstar didn't care if anyone in the space station heard him laugh out loud.

* * *

_"Back on Earth you're waking up soon,  
Stretching in the morning light.  
No celestial body could compare to you."  
_

The fuel cells were fully charged. The weapon and cloaking system were online. The scanners weren't picking up any hostile entities. But for all these reassurances, the Captain still couldn't shake the feeling that there was something wrong.

He made a note who among the crew whispered he was being paranoid and who stayed on their guard when he personally went to inspect the ship. He wasn't sure what to expect or if he'd find anything. He hoped he was simply being overly careful. This way, he could just chalk it up to nerves. After all, it wasn't everyday he was tasked to go on a recon mission at the borders of enemy territory.

Maybe it was how _uneventful_ the mission had been that didn't sit well with him. Either they had been overestimating the enemy or he and his crew were just that good. After searching the entirety of his ship and finding nothing suspicious or out of the ordinary, the Captain decided it was the latter, and headed back to the bridge.

Only to nearly fall flat on his face when he tripped over the body of his second in command. It was instincts that had him grab his blaster and reflex rolling to the side for cover, managing to avoid the obsidian beam, stopping only when he was behind a computer panel. He dared to sneak a peek above the panel, and immediately released a volley of laser fire at the humanoid dressed in black.

The air around the intruder shimmered as the rounds ricocheted against an invisible barrier.

"Is that the best you have to offer?" Came a smooth but audibly bored voice.

The Captain pressed a series of buttons on the console, allowing the darkness that descended to speak for him. He smirked to himself, knowing he had the advantage of fighting without light. His silent dash for the intruder was cut short when he felt something slam into him. Something cold and unyielding. Something intangible that was draining him of his strength, robbed him of mobility, and left him barely awake to hear the voice sigh, "I must say I'm rather disappointed. I expected more of a challenge from the so-called saviors the rebels were sending out for with their clarion call."

Even though his eyelids felt heavy, the Captain did his best to fight off the numbing cold seeping into his limbs, tried to keep himself out of sleep's treacherous grasp.

"Who are you?" he half-rasped.

"Oh, you're still awake," the voice chuckled ominously, "That's good. That's very good."

"What are you going to do?" he demanded, struggling to raise his head, frowning that he couldn't even get a good look at his assailant. Not with that helmet hiding his identity.

"I'm going to set off some fireworks," the grin was audible behind the metal.

Meanwhile, back on Earth, Charmcaster sighed in annoyance as she stared up at the night sky.

_"Darkles, I've been standing out here freezing my ass off for the past fifteen minutes. What the fuck was it you wanted to show me?"_ she snarled in their mind-link.

_"Patience, Lovely, you shouldn't have to wait for much longer,"_ he promised.

And true to his word, amethyst eyes caught sight of a shooting star.

_"Is that all?"_ she sneered, _"I'm supposed to be impressed by-"_ the rest of her words died on her lips when a veritable storm of falling stars sailed across the heavens. There were so many of them. Far too many to be from mere asteroids and other variants of space rock.

_"You asked me once what mana signatures looked like when their bodies die,"_ he remarked nonchalantly.

_"So they look like shooting stars?"_

Darkstar's soft, amused chuckle grew into a malice-filled laugh, _"No, no, they don't."_

_"Then why-"_

_"This way, every time you see a shooting star, you'll remember standing outside freezing your ass off for fifteen minutes just to watch scads of them. And more importantly, you'll remember that you did it simply because I told you to."_

Charmcaster almost, _almost_ cast a teleportation spell to bring Darkstar back to Earth so she could properly show him she did not appreciate having her time wasted. Instead, she contented herself with smugly stating, _"I know it's boring being off-world and nipping would-be threats in the bud. But you didn't have to go through all this trouble just to tell me you missed me and were hoping I thought about you."_

Her painted lips pulled into a triumphant smirk at the uncomfortable and distinctly embarrassed silence on Darkstar's end.


	23. In Space 2

**Characters Involved:**  
Myaxx and Tetrax

**Author's Notes:**  
It's been ages since I last wrote anything and I'm rusty as hell. But I needed my MyTrax fix and this came out. I regret nothing!

* * *

_"From solar winds to zero kelvin,  
I'm hurtling and pressurized.  
If only I could get a breath of you."_

_He's at a ship's bridge again, standing at attention, gold eyes watching his world on the monitor with mild disinterest. He listens to the threat his employer makes with the same amount of enthusiasm, having heard the spiel a hundred times over. But then the device he helped piece together thrums to life and its muzzle begins to glow white-hot. His gaze darts back to the screen, his world has his full attention now, as does his people's refusal to surrender._

_He stares, dumbstruck, horrified,_ helpless_. All he can do is stand at attention, mouth agape, unable to move, unable to breathe as the device threads fissures across the surface of Petropia. Screams blare out over the ship's speakers for several long moments and then it abruptly cuts to static. His employers switches off the monitor and the speakers with little more than an annoyed hiss, and leaves the bridge without even acknowledging his presence._

_Unable to bear the weight of his guilt, the floor crumbles beneath his feet. He finds himself plummeting into a chasm lined with the crystals that used to form his home world of Petropia, his people's screams echoing with such intense resonance he's certain he will shatter. But at the brink of fragmentation, everything goes silent._

_He continues to fall, unblinking gold eyes watching the chasm walls reflect every single act of selfishness he's committed building up to his unintentional betrayal. He's still alive, still whole. Except now he's cracked and flawed and brittle, with an ache carving at his soul and exhaustion seeping into every nook of his body. He feels his lids begin to droop shut and he reaches out to embrace oblivion._

_But then the walls close in and the screams begin anew._

* * *

Tetrax Shard wakes with a start, his core pulsating madly against his chest, a faint sheen of gloss on his skin, and a roar in his ears. It takes the blink of an eye for him to realize it's _him_ screaming and a fourth of that for him to cease. He sits upright immediately, burying his face in his blocky hands while muttering angrily beneath his breath.

Lately, he's been having dreams and it wasn't long before the nightmares followed.

After several slow, controlled intakes of air, the pounding in his head dies down and the staccato of his core-pulse evens out. He unravels the sheets from his body, rising to change into his battlesuit. With all the adrenaline coursing through him, he knows he's not going to be able to sleep anytime soon and figures he might as well burn it off in the Danger Room. Heavy footfalls echo down the hallway, and Tetrax takes care to keep his eyes focused ahead of him.

The mercenary pauses when he reaches the laboratory, not surprised at the light streaming through the window nor the fact that it's occupied. The chimera prefers to work at odd hours and her schedule hasn't given him or his navigator any problems. He peers into the lab, silently watching Myaxx's hunched form as she tinkers with a new device that he didn't know much about, other than it would be a destructive force that she will sell to the highest bidder. Or will give to him to use for the cause of good.

And if Gluto was in any way involved, it's probably both. The corner of Tetrax's mouth unconsciously twitches up into a small smile at the thought, and he folds his arms across his broad chest. The tension in his body erodes ever so slightly, just enough for him to realize he had crossed the line between casual observation to outright staring. Crystalline features school themselves back to their usual grim countenance as he silently chides himself for being distracted.

He finds it disconcerting, how easy it has become for him to lose his focus whenever Myaxx was involved. And he finds it alarming that he even feels this way in the first place! His emotions used to be so much easier to deal with before the loud, opinionated scientist became something of a permanent fixture on the ship. Similar to how Gluto managed to integrate himself into the ship's navigation system only Myaxx was much, much, _much_ more conspicuous. And though the petrosapian will deny it even under pain of death, the chimera sui generis catches his attention time and time again.

Perhaps the stark a contrast between them is just too blatant to ignore. He doesn't care about the praise of his employers so long as they meet his bottom line. She on the other hand strives for it, craves it even. He's content to remain unnoticed and his deeds anonymous. She insists credit be given where due, namely her. He's ready to slug it out at a moment's notice. She prefers the path of no resistance whenever combat is involved. On the other hand, he's at a loss whenever social graces are concerned. And while she's no socialite, she knows how to play nice with other aliens.

When he is unable to come to a conclusion, he shakes his head to clear his mind. Tetrax attributes his restlessness to the adrenaline in his system and turns to leave without alerting Myaxx of his presence. It proves futile because the faint hum of the door sliding open sounds and is quickly followed by a concerned: "Shard?"

He doesn't know how the chimera always manages to figure out he was lingering outside the lab. He suspects she uses a monitoring device that she installed without his consent. Or her specie has an uncanny ability to detect when they are being watched. But if Gluto was in any way involved, it's probably both.

Myaxx steps out into the hall, one foot still inside the lab ready to exit or reenter at a moment's notice when she states: "You had that nightmare again."

Tetrax doesn't trust himself to face her, but he stops walking all the same. He answers tersely, "I'm fine. It's nothing to concern yourself with." His tone used to mean it's in her best interest to back off. Except at one point in several years worth of working together, his tone has distorted to mean something else entirely and he isn't even aware of it.

He feels her approach and braces himself for an attack, anticipating a rough tackle and a vicious snarl. He's already shifting into a stance to counter her, except the arms that wind around him are gentle and the kiss she plants is feather-light.

"You stupid lug," she mutters none-too-gently against his cheek, the disapproving frown audible in her voice, "I'll drop by the Danger Room in three terran hours so you'd better be finished killing yourself by then." She lets him go and returns to the lab so swiftly and so suddenly the door slides shut before Tetrax even realizes it.

Through the window, gold eyes blink in confusion at Myaxx's hunched form. Tetrax isn't certain what just happened or how it had happened, and it's a herculean effort to tear himself away. Heavy footfalls echo down the hallway, and Tetrax finds himself glancing back every other step. When his hand hesitates over the simulator's control panel a second too long, he realizes he doesn't want to go in the Danger Room anymore.

It takes several blinks of an eye before Tetrax admits to himself where he wants to go. It takes a fourth of that for him to arrive at the lab.


End file.
